


Mother Arc

by dragonimp



Series: Waiting [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 102,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/pseuds/dragonimp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Background:  This is set a little over a year after "A Change in Routine," and they've been in East City for about half that time.  Roy has had his rank and title restored, and was transferred to East to take Lt. General Grumman's position after Grumman retired.  Ed works for the military as an "independent contractor," a position which they more or less created on the spot so that they didn't lose him entirely.  Not as many perks and not as much pay as a full state alchemist, but not as many obligations, either.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Background: This is set a little over a year after "A Change in Routine," and they've been in East City for about half that time. Roy has had his rank and title restored, and was transferred to East to take Lt. General Grumman's position after Grumman retired. Ed works for the military as an "independent contractor," a position which they more or less created on the spot so that they didn't lose him entirely. Not as many perks and not as much pay as a full state alchemist, but not as many obligations, either.

The first letter was a formal notice from the Xingian embassy, addressed to East City Command; with it had come a personal letter addressed to him. Roy read them both over for the third time, lay them on his desk, stared at them a moment, then glanced at the clock. Sighing, he folded the letters and tucked them in his pocket, then made his way out of the office.

"Sir?"

"I'm going to lunch, Lieutenant Marcus. I'll be back around thirteen-thirty."

The man nodded crisply. "Yes, sir."

Roy waited a beat, and then asked, "When would my next appointment be, Lieutenant?"

"Fourteen hundred. Sir."

Roy nodded, giving his aide a measuring stare, but decided not to comment on the thinly veiled contempt. Commanding officers had aides so they didn't _have_ to remember mundane things like schedules. How he missed Hawkeye.

But the lack of his former staff wasn't what preoccupied him as he headed for the library. The two letters seemed to sit heavily in his pocket, weighing much more than a few pieces of paper ought.

"Absolutely not!"

He looked up from his musings to see his lover storming down the library steps, followed by a young woman with a librarian's name tag.

"Elric-san—"

"No!"

"Listen a sec—"

"I said _no_!"

"But—"

Edward rounded on her, and Roy had to give her credit for not running scared. She did draw back a little, pulling her hands to her chest and looking down at the scowling blond with wide eyes. "No, no, _no_! I _don't_ want anyone _writing_ about me!" He turned back around and stomped down the last few steps.

The woman bit her lip and tugged on the end of her braid where it fell over her shoulder, then blurted out, "I don't need your permission!"

Ed froze, then turned back. "What??"

"To write about you." She tugged on the braid again. "I don't _need_ your permission."

"The fuck you don't!"

She winced, but held her ground. "No, I don't. Not legally."

"I'm afraid the young lady's right," Roy interjected, coming up along side Edward as the smaller man sputtered. "You're a public figure. That makes you fair game for journalists and writers."

"The _hell_?" Ed turned to glare up at him. "What do you mean, I'm fair game? I never tried to be a public figure!"

"Unfortunately, that's just how the system works."

"You've been a public figure ever since you made a name for yourself as a state alchemist." The librarian, both hands now tugging on her hair, hesitantly walked down the last few steps. "People have already written about you. However, a lot of it seems to be conjecture or even outright fabrication. That's why I want your cooperation."

"You wish to be the truth among the lies." Roy gave her a smile, nodding. "I admire that."

She smiled shyly, looking away as she twisted the braid around her fingers. "Nothing so noble, I just have a thing about accuracy. And, y'know," she glanced at Edward, "I thought you might want at least one thing out there that's not full of bullshit."

Ed opened his mouth, closed it, then scrubbed his fingers through his bangs. "Arrgh— _fine_! Write your fucking book! But I get final say on what goes in it!"

"Of course!" She beamed, and Roy thought she might yank the braid off entirely. "That's the whole point! Can you meet me after I get off work today? Oh, no, I don't have my notebook—tomorrow? I get off at three, would that work?"

"Yeah, fine, whatever, I'm going to be here doing research anyway."

"Great!" She bounced on her toes, finally letting go of her hair. "I'll see you tomorrow, then—thank you so much!" With that she turned and raced back up to the library.

Edward watched her go, then turned and gave Roy a piteous look. "What have I gotten myself into?"

The older man chuckled. "At least she was courteous enough to ask first."

"Has there really been stuff written about me?"

"Mm. Articles, mostly. A few longer pieces. You're lucky the people who knew you best aren't inclined to talk to reporters, or there would be a lot more."

"Fuck."

"Mm."

They ate lunch at a small caf&eacute near the library. Halfway through the meal Roy realized Ed was staring at him. "What?"

"That's my question," the blond replied. "What's eating you?"

"I don't know what you. . . ." He trailed off and sighed when Ed gave him a _look_. Part of him missed the days when he could hide things from the young man. But only part. "Very well. This came today." He pulled the letters out and handed the other man the first one.

"Huh," Edward said as he skimmed the letter. "I didn't even know we had a Xingian embassy."

"It's been vacant; Xing hasn't wanted to deal with us for some time. Given Fuhrer Bradley's attitude toward our neighboring countries, I can't say I blame them."

"So what's the problem?" He waved the letter and gave him a confused look. "Even I can see that this could be a huge political advantage for you. I mean, shit, they're staying in East City. They're not even going to Central."

"Actually, I'm going to have to play this very carefully. Having blood ties to Xing could work against me."

"Really?"

Roy smiled at his lover's naïvet&eacute. "Yes, really; but that's not what's bothering me." He passed the second letter across the table. "This came with it."

This time as he read his eyebrows rose. "This is. . . ."

"From my mother, yes."

"Your mother's coming along?"

"So it seems."

"And they'll be here in—" he skimmed the first letter again, "—less than two weeks??"

"Mm."

"Fuck."

They fell silent for a moment while Roy ate and Ed stared at the letters.

"What does she mean, 'I look forward to meeting your friend'?" the younger man said slowly.

"I did mention you in my last letter."

"So that's good, right? I mean, she said she's looking forward to it."

"She could just be being polite. She referred to you as my 'friend'; not 'lover,' or 'boyfriend,' or 'partner,' or any other word that implies intimacy."

"Oh. So I guess that could be bad?"

The older man heaved a sigh. "I wish I knew. Views on sexual orientation haven't exactly come up in any of our correspondences." His mother's reaction to his choice in partners wasn't the only thing worrying him, but for now he kept that to himself.

Edward shoved the last of his sandwich in his mouth and contemplated the letter some more. "Hey, what's this at the bottom?" he said through the last of his bite, pointing to the glyph next to the scrawled _Love, Mom._

"That? It's her name, Yu, in Xingian calligraphy."

Ed quirked an eyebrow at him. "Your mother's name is 'you'?"

Roy rolled his eye. "Not 'you,' _Yu_." He wondered if the young man could even hear the difference.

"Huh."

The older man sighed again and held his hand out for the letters. "I'm going to be too busy getting ready for the arrival of the embassy to worry too much, though. You did notice that it includes one of the emperor's children?"

Edward folded the letters and passed them back. "Yeah, I saw that. Does the emperor really have seventeen kids?"

"He has at least seventeen _daughters_. That doesn't count his sons."

"Holy shit. . . ."

"Hm." He smiled. "The emperor has a wife from each clan. They each have at least one child, usually more. But anyway, I need to get back to work, or Lieutenant Marcus will try to drown me with his contempt."

The blond rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to put up with that asshole?"

"I don't have the clout to request a new staff based on personality differences." He shrugged, and stood. "It's not so bad; at least he's honest about how he feels."

Ed snorted, sitting back in his chair. "Whatever. I'll be heading home, so I'll see you tonight."

"Don't forget to make dinner."

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

Ed didn't forget, but only because Al came home an hour before Roy and reminded him. This of course meant Al helped with dinner, which was fine except for one thing.

". . . So the emperor has, like, a bazillion children, and one of them is coming along— _no_ , Al, I already put seasoning in—"

"But it looks bland—"

"How can something 'look' bland— _give_ me that!"

"Hey!"

Ed grabbed for the spice jar but Al held it out of his reach, which was just _annoying_ —his "little brother" should not be taller than he is, dammit, especially now that he was (physically) six years younger.

"Nii-san—stop that—you're going to upset the pot—ow!—like last time!"

"I wouldn't—if you'd just— _give_ me the fucking thing!"

"Okay, okay! I'll put it away, just—let go—"

Edward relented but stood guard in front of the stove until Alphonse had put the spices back into the cabinet. "Spice your own bowl."

"It's not the same if it's not cooked with it."

"Tough shit."

"So why is this princess—what was her name?—coming here?"

"Don't remember what her name was," Ed said as he stirred the stew, "but the letter said she was interested in some sort of cultural exchange involving alchemy."

"Really? There's so little written about Xingian alchemy . . . but I think it was primarily developed for medical purposes."

"Huh . . . y'know, I think Marcoh always used the Stone. I wonder. . . ."

The brothers got so deep in conversation that the elder one didn't even notice the door open, didn't notice the other person in the room, not until fingers brushed against the back of his neck.

"But how would— _heek_!" He jumped and spun, already glaring at the culprit. "Roy!"

The dark-haired man chuckled in that annoying and so very sexy ( _halt thought, little brother in the room_ ) way he had. "With the way you startle at times I'm surprised you lived past your teen years."

Ed scowled. "It's only because I'm so used to you, you bastard." He turned back, then elbowed Roy in the gut when the older man had the audacity to come closer. "If it had been a stranger, I would've noticed."

"Roy-san, is your mother really coming here?"

"So it seems." He sounded pained and Ed rolled his eyes. He hadn't hit him _that_ hard.

"You don't seem very excited about it," Al said hesitantly.

"No, I am, it's just . . . the last time we saw each other was just after Ishval, and . . . a lot has happened since then."

Edward pressed his lips together, and this time when Roy came up behind him to put arms around his shoulders, he didn't push him away.

After dinner, Roy pulled out an old photograph to show them. In it was a woman with long black hair and dark, slanted eyes, standing next to a man in a military uniform and holding a black-haired little boy in her arms.

"Well, weren't you just adorable," Edward cooed. Roy gave him a look, somewhere between amusement and annoyance, and Ed grinned.

"That's your mother?" Alphonse leaned over Roy's other side to get a better look. "You take after her."

"Mm. Something I was not always happy with, to be honest."

"Why not? She's so pretty."

"This goes back to that 'fitting in' thing, doesn't it?"

The older man nodded. "There aren't too many people with Xingian ancestry in Amestris."

"No, I get it, I used to hate that I looked like Hohenheim."

Al rolled his eyes. "That's just because you hated Dad."

"No, that's not—okay, that was part, but it wasn't the _whole_ reason. It wasn't!" he said to his brother's skeptical look. "It made me stand out. Have you ever seen anyone else with piss-yellow eyes or this funky shade of blond?" He tugged on the end of his ponytail.

"Piss-yellow. . . ."

"Oh, Nii-san, it's not _that_ bad. You don't stand out . . . much. . . ."

" _Thanks_ , Al."

"Well," Al said as he scratched the back of his head, "you _were_ teased about it when we were kids, but. . . ."

"You really. . . ." Roy started again.

"It's not _bad_ , it just makes you . . . different?"

" _That's_ how you see yourself?"

"At least your eyes are consistent, mine can't even decide what color they are."

"Lots of people have eyes that change color. _Nobody_ else's are piss-yellow like this, even Dad's weren't, really, his were darker—"

"Will you stop calling them 'piss-yellow'??"

"Why?"

"It's . . . derogatory." The older man was giving him an incredulous look. "I can't believe you actually see yourself like that."

Edward rolled his eyes and muttered, "How else am I supposed to see myself?" but shook his head when his lover started to say something more. "Never mind. This photograph's old, though, don't you have anything more recent of her?"

"There might be, let me see. . . ."

They spent the rest of the evening looking at photographs. It seemed Roy hadn't looked at most of them in years.

"Isn't your mom kinda old to be crossing the desert like this?" Ed asked as they got ready for bed.

"She's fifty-eight, and I'm sure she'd be insulted if you called her old."

"Whatever, that's hardly _young_." He looked a moment at the distant, tight expression on the dark-haired man's face and sighed. "You're worried 'bout what she'll think of me, huh," he commented as he pulled the blankets back and sat on the bed. "I could try to, y'know, behave around her."

Roy paused after removing his eye patch and looked at him.

"Y'know, give a good impression." He pulled the covers up and stretched his legs out beneath them. "I really can behave."

The older man laughed and set the patch on the bedside table, then leaned over and cupped the back of the younger one's skull and pressed a kiss to his temple. "One of the things I love about you is how you're never anything but yourself. Don't try to change that for something like this."

"But. . . ."

Roy shook his head, rubbing his forehead against the other man's hair. "Besides, we both know you'd be horrible at it." He laughed again and jumped back when Ed punched his shoulder. "But I appreciate the thought."

Edward watched as the older man turned off the lamp and then slipped under the covers. "You're still worried about it."

Roy sighed, looking at him in the dark, and at length said, "I'm worried about what she'll think of _me_."

Ed opened his mouth, closed it, then scooted over and wrapped his arms around his lover.


	2. Chapter 1

Either she had forgotten how trying crossing the desert was, or she was simply getting older. Either way Yu was glad they had arrived early, because it had given her more time to rest up before the embassy was officially greeted by East City Command. Roy was the highest ranking officer, the messenger they had sent to inform the command of their arrival had confirmed that, which meant he would be doing the greeting. Her little boy was a brigadier general, that was higher than his father had reached, and at such a young age, too.

But alongside the pride was the anxiety of seeing her son again after all these years. How many years has it been? More than ten, she was sure of that, she could kick herself for letting it go this long. She remembered how he had been just after the war. He had been keeping something from her, hiding something dark and painful, but whether it had been the trauma of battle or something more she didn't know. There had been a darkness inside him then, and she had hardly recognized him. It had scared her. What will he be like now?

When the time came Yu stood toward the back to watch the formal exchange take place. Part of her was assessing how well Princess Mei had learned Amestrian. Another part was admiring the casual poise and charm with which Roy conducted himself. He was so much his father's son. But most of her attention was fixed on the left side of her son's face. When he'd mentioned he'd lost an eye, she had not expected the patch to be so large. Just what had happened to her baby?

"‹That's my little cousin?›" her niece, Li Xue, leaned over and murmured. "‹The one who used to follow me around like a puppy?›"

Yu had to swallow a laugh. Roy _had_ been rather puppy-like in the way he'd tagged along after his elder cousin in Xing. "‹There doesn't seem to be much puppy in him now, does there,›" she murmured back. She hadn't told her niece what Roy had been like after the war, letting her keep the image of the sweet eleven-year-old boy.

"‹He has grown up rather nicely, hasn't he.›" Li Xue sighed theatrically. "‹Too bad about his preference, there must be a lot of disappointed women here.›"

"‹I had _thought_ he liked women,›" the older woman muttered, mostly to herself. His letters had once been filled with descriptions of the young women he'd been going out with. She couldn't imagine what had caused him to suddenly start seeing a young _man_ —a _very_ young man, from the sound of it. She found herself looking around the room, and realized she was looking for a man who could be her son's—her son's what? Consort? Partner? "Special friend"? There didn't seem to be an appropriate term; at least, not one that didn't make her want to twitch.

It was foolish trying to find this person when she had no idea what to look for, so she turned back to wait for the formal pleasantries to be over. Roy was currently explaining the services Eastern Command would provide for Mei and her entourage. Then he bowed, said that he hoped everyone would have a productive and enjoyable stay in Amestris, and ended by suggesting they all go to the next room, where refreshments were waiting.

"‹Did he mention in his letter what happened to his face?›" Li Xue asked as they followed the others.

"‹He said he was shot,›" Yu replied. "‹He didn't go into detail.›" He had been keeping things from her, major things, ever since Ishval. She was determined to see that habit stop, if nothing else. This was her little boy, he should be able to trust his mother.

"‹Poor little cousin,›" her niece muttered.

When they got into the room she couldn't find him among all the other uniforms. She finally recognized his eye patch when he turned to say something to a blond boy with a ponytail who was standing next to him. His back was to her, so she touched Li Xue's arm to get her attention and then made her way over.

He was scanning the room and so caught sight of her before she'd gotten far. He broke into a smile and quickly crossed the distance between them, and gave her a hug. "Mom! It's so good to see you,"

"And you, sweetie," she said, giving him a tight hug. When she pulled back she gestured to the younger woman next to her. "And you remember your cousin, right?"

Roy blinked, one eyebrow raised (or maybe both eyebrows, the other one was hidden behind the patch), then smiled. "Li Xue? What are you doing here?"

"‹Hello, little cousin!›"

He chuckled as they embraced. "You can't call me 'little' anymore, Li-Li, I'm taller than you."

The blond boy, who had followed Roy over, snorted and looked at the older man with an incredulous expression. She wondered what he was doing here; maybe he was the son of one of Roy's men.

Li Xue laughed. "‹That doesn't matter, you're still my little cousin.›" Then, switching to Amestrian, "I study foreign cultures now, so I am here to study."

He chuckled again. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of material." Turning back to Yu, he said, "You both look well. I hope the journey wasn't too harsh?"

"The desert is the same as it's ever been." Yu reached up to pat her son's cheek. He had scars here, two thin lines marring his pale skin. "You don't look so well, though. Have you been sleeping all right? You shouldn't stress yourself out, it's not good for you."

"I'm fine, I've just been busy preparing for all of you. A week and a half is hardly enough time."

"Oh? Then these aren't grey hairs I see here?" she said, brushing back the hair at his temple, just under the strap from the eye patch.

"Mother. . . ."

The boy snickered, and Roy turned to glare at him. He had to turn; the boy was on his blind side. "You hush. That white hair I found in the shower the other day certainly wasn't _mine_."

"What?" The boy's gloved hands flew to the fringe of hair framing his face. "I don't have grey hair!"

Roy smirked. "No. Yours are _white_."

"But—I can't have grey hair! I'm too young to have grey hair!"

"White."

"Fuck off, bastard! You're delusional."

"Am I?"

Yu exchanged a look with her niece as the boy sputtered some more obscenities and Roy chuckled.

"My apologies, Mother, Cousin." He extended a hand to indicate the scowling boy. "This is Edward Elric, the one I told you about in my letter."

_This_ was—?

The boy—young man, she saw now that he was older than she'd first thought—scratched the back of his head, the scowl fading to a look that was sheepish and more than a little uncomfortable. "Eh . . . hi."

This was Roy's—?

"Edward, this is my mother, Yu Mustang, and my cousin, Chen Li Xue."

He was little more than a child!

"Pleased to meet you, Edward." Yu could only hope her smile was hiding the swirl of confused feelings.

A short time later, Yu took advantage of the small crowd to get a better look at Roy's . . . boyfriend? Lover? She suppressed a twitch. She had expected him to be young, she had remembered his name from past letters when Roy had talked about an alchemic prodigy, but she'd still been shocked. For one thing, he was no taller than she, quite small for a westerner. But aside from that, he was simply . . . not what she'd been expecting.

When her son—her son, who had always dated women, who used to go on for pages about women—told her that he was involved with a man, she had unconsciously expected said man to be, well, feminine. But this boy. . . .

She watched him as he talked with a couple of the diplomats. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, strong features, and every movement—his gestures, his stance—seemed to speak of a sort of controlled, easy strength. Even with the ponytail that fell to just past his shoulder blades, there was nothing feminine about him. In fact, one could even say that he was more masculine than _Roy_. Wait, did that mean Roy was the one who—

Her mind screeched to a halt and hastily retreated from that thought.

She had to admit that the young man was attractive. Definitely striking, with his allover golden coloring. If she'd been thirty-five years younger, she might be attracted to him herself. But she would have never thought Roy would go for someone that. Someone who was so . . . utterly male. And then there was the age difference. . . .

_Would you be so concerned about the age difference if he was dating a woman?_ a corner of her mind asked.

_Yes_ , she told it firmly. _There has to be more than a decade between them_!

She caught sight of Roy just then, talking with another blond, ponytailed boy. This one was taller than Edward, but several years younger, early teens at best. They turned and came up to her.

"Mom, I'd like you to meet Alphonse, Edward's younger brother," Roy said, nodding to the boy. "Al, this is my mother, Yu Mustang."

The boy smiled brightly and bowed, the thick, honey-colored ponytail falling forward over his shoulder. "Pleased to meet you, Mustang-san."

She smiled in return. "Please, call me Yu. There's no reason to be so formal."

He smiled again and bobbed his head. "All right, Yu-san."

These two brothers couldn't be more different. The elder one was all harsh angles and attitude, while the younger rather reminded her of a teddy bear. A very polite teddy bear.

"Alphonse is also a talented alchemist," Roy continued. "He actually got a better score on the written portion of the state alchemy exam than Edward did, although circumstances prevented him from completing the exam."

The boy ducked slightly and rubbed the back of his head. Well, there seemed to be at least one trait they had in common. "That's only because Nii-san didn't get to the last question. He would have gotten it right."

"Ah, but part of the exam is finishing within the time limit. You finished, while he didn't, and therefore you got the higher score."

Alphonse blushed, looking pleased.

"You're awfully young to have taken the exam," Yu commented. "That alone is quite an accomplishment."

He shrugged. "Nii-san and I grew up with alchemy. We learned to read from Dad's books. We were always doodling arrays in school—our teacher used to get really mad and throw chalk at us."

She chuckled. "I see! So your father's an alchemist as well?"

"Yes, he was. He was really smart—"

They were distracted by an officer rushing up to Roy and saluting. "Brigadier General—may I speak with you a moment?" Roy nodded and he and the woman went off to the side. As she spoke, Roy's face seemed to close off, and then he nodded, said something, and then left as she saluted again.

The woman—a warrant officer, if Yu was reading her uniform right—sighed and walked back over to them. "Brigadier General Mustang wants me to tell you that he won't be gone long."

"Oi, Allensworth," Edward called as he trotted over to them. "What's the big deal?"

"Oh, Edward-san." Allensworth nodded in greeting. "It's nothing major, just a detail that happened to get overlooked. It shouldn't take the Brigadier General long to corrected it."

"Overlooked," Edward said in a low voice, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes, "or deliberately misplaced?"

"I'm sure it was completely accidental," she said. "There was a lot of paperwork, and a sheet could easily end up in the wrong stack."

"Uh-huh. Very easily, I'm sure."

Allensworth looked like she wanted to say something more, but then sighed again and bowed to the young man. A look of understanding passed between them as she left.

Yu raised an eyebrow. "You think it was not an accident?"

Edward growled. "I think that jackass Marcus is trying to fuck Mustang over."

"Nii-san!" Alphonse grabbed his brother's arm.

"What? That fucker isn't here."

"But someone else could over hear you! Besides, you don't know he did anything on purpose. He might not even have been the one who misplaced it. Just . . . try being polite for a while?"

The elder one made a disgusted noise and rolled his eyes. " _Fine_ , Al."

Yu hummed a little and filed this information away. Edward blinked at her, then turned away, looking both annoyed and sheepish.

"So, Alphonse-san was just telling me about your father," she said, thinking a change of subject might be diplomatic. "I understand he was an alchemist."

"Yeah, Al and I grew up on his books and journals," Edward muttered. "Wasn't much else in the house."

"He was really smart," Alphonse said again. "Some of his theories were really amazing."

"Old bastard was too smart for his own good. _And_ ours."

"Nii-san, you can't really blame him for what happened. . . ."

"I can too blame him for the things that're his fault." At the look on his brother's face, Edward sighed. "It's not like I blame him for everything, I know what things were not his fault . . . I don't hate him anymore, you know that."

"Yeah, I know. . . ."

"It sounds like you and your father didn't get along too well," Yu commented.

"The old man wasn't around when we were growing up _to_ get along with. All we _had_ were his books."

"He came back, though."

"Can we talk about something else?"

As fate would have it, Yu got pulled away just then to serve as a translator. She couldn't help but wonder if maybe Edward had been looking for a replacement father figure; and if that was the case, she wondered what Roy had been looking for.

* * *

Ed stared at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He supposed it hadn't gone horribly . . . but he hadn't exactly made the impression he'd been hoping to make. Still, Roy could hardly blame him for that, since the older man had been the one to provoke him that first time.

He leaned out of the bathroom to regard the other man as he was changing. He never got tired of that sight. "Oi," he said after a moment. "Wha' wassa deo' wi'da pa'ur wirk?"

"Now I know I've been spending too much time around you, I actually understood that."

Ed flicked some toothpaste foam at him.

"It was a minor detail, but it could have caused problems later on." Roy finished buttoning his pajamas and came to join him in the bathroom. "It dealt with the paperwork for traveling . . . it's straightened out now."

The younger man grunted and leaned over to spit. "Can't you replace that jerkoff based on incompetence?"

"Not for something like this. Besides, I don't even know he's the one who misplaced it. Although he is the most likely," he added in an undertone.

Edward grunted again.

"it is a shame, though," Roy went on as Ed finished up. "I wanted to spend more time at the reception. And with Mom and Li Xue—I didn't even know Li-Li was coming, that was a complete surprise. I haven't seen her since I was a boy."

"I like your cousin, she called you 'little,'" Ed snickered.

"When I was eleven and she was fourteen, I _was_ smaller."

"She did seem nice, though. And your mom seemed to like Al. But I dunno, I think she kept giving me funny looks."

The older man sighed quietly, and when Ed glanced at him in the mirror he had a distant expression on his face.

"You take some getting used to," he finally said. "I wouldn't worry about it. Overall, I think it went pretty well."

The younger man frowned, but didn't say anything.

"Speaking of impressions," Roy said as he wrapped his arms around Ed's shoulders, resting his cheek against the blond's hair and looking at them in the mirror, "I've been meaning to ask you: how _do_ you see yourself?"

"Huh?"

"Do you see yourself as attractive?"

"Attractive? No. Not really."

"No? Why not?"

He shrugged against the other man's arms. "I've got those piss-yellow eyes and funky hair—I always liked Winry's hair, she's a proper blonde. Not this. . . ."

"If you say 'piss-yellow' again I'm going to smack you."

He gave him an irritated look. "Well, it _is_. And it's got that cowlick I can never get rid of. And I don't like the way my eyebrows angle, and my nose turns up like a rat's—that's one thing I wish I _had_ taken after the old man. I think this rodent nose came from my mom's side."

"'Rodent nose.'"

"Not like it matters." He shrugged again, reaching up to rest his hands on his lover's forearms. "I look like what I look like. Not like I'm going to try to alchemize my face or something."

Roy burst out laughing, smothering it in the shorter man's hair. "I certainly hope not. Oh, Love. . . ." He pulled away, leaning against the counter and turning Edward to face him. "I never imagined your self-image was so skewed."

"What d'you mean?" Ed asked, frowning.

Roy's hands were on his face then, stroking over the features the young man had just described, smoothing away his frown, his smile soft and fond. Then he cupped his face, his fingers tangling in the loose hair. "You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met."

"Yeah, well." He couldn't duck his head with the other man holding his face, but his eyes darted away, and he could feel his cheeks heating. "You're biased."

"It's not just me. Hawkeye—" he chuckled, "—when you first joined my command, when you were twelve, Hawkeye said, 'that kid's going to be breaking hearts in a few years.'"

"Hawkeye said—?"

"You can ask her yourself. Anyone could see how attractive you were going to be. Well . . . anyone but you, apparently."

Edward did duck his head this time, burying the lower part of his face in the other man's palms. Roy leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

"I did wonder about that flip, though." He removed one hand to flick at the errant lock of hair.

"My hair just does that. Here, watch." The blond pulled back and finger-combed his bangs, smoothing the flip down with the rest of the hair. Then he shook his head and, sure enough, a lock of hair sprang up at the peak of his forehead. "See? I can't get rid of it. Believe me, I've tried."

The other man chuckled, reaching up to tug gently on the flip. "Even your hair is contrary. I shouldn't be surprised."

Ed snorted and batted at the hand, then edged forward, leaning against the dark-haired man's shoulder and sighing when strong arms settled around him, one hand gently rubbing the small of his back. "I just want your mom to like me," he muttered.

"I want her to like you, too."

"I'll try not to be such a brat."

Roy chuckled softly. "Oh, but you _are_ a brat. There's no getting around _that_."

"Bastard."

"I know."


	3. Chapter 2

"What's _that_ thing?"

"Ah, sir, no, she—"

_Chomp_.

"Yaaaah!!"

"—bites."

Yu and Li Xue both winced and ran over to help as Edward let out a string of curses and tried to shake the miniature panda off his finger.

"Edward-san, calm down, if you stop moving, she will let go," Li Xue tried, holding out her hands in a tentative attempt to still his arm. All of them had learned great respect for the little panda over the journey.

"What are you doing to Xiao Mei??"

"‹Princess Mei!›"

"Get this monster offa me!!"

"How cruel! Xiao Mei is no monster! ‹Xiao Mei, come here.›" Xiao Mei dropped to the floor and ran over, and the girl bent down to scoop her pet onto her shoulder. "‹You shouldn't bite him, you might get sick.›"

"Your little mutant cat bit me for no reason!" The young man brandished his bleeding finger as proof.

"Edward-san—"

"It was your fault for teasing her, you—obnoxious bean of a boy!"

"What did you call me, you bean girl??"

"Animal hating bean boy!"

"Mutant loving midget girl!"

"Edward-san!"

"‹Princess Mei!›"

Yu guided Mei back to the other side of the room while Li Xue and a few of the others herded a still-cursing Edward over to medical to get his finger tended.

"‹Princess, maybe you should keep Xiao Mei with you from now on,›" Yu suggested, eyeing the panda's teeth.

"‹You're right,›" Mei allowed, patting her pet fondly. "‹I wouldn't want her to get lost. Besides, who knows what diseases she might pick up from biting strange bean boys.›"

"‹Ah. . . .›" The elder woman smiled nervously. "‹Perhaps it would be more diplomatic if you refrained from calling him that.›"

"‹He started it!›"

"‹Oh?›"

"‹He called Xiao Mei a monster!›"

"‹Ah. Then maybe I should speak to him as well.›"

Other than the incident between Edward and the panda, the informal exchange of knowledge was going well. The biggest problem had been the language barrier, but Yu wasn't the only one who could act as a translator.

When Edward returned, finger bandaged and left glove removed, he stood across the room and glowered at Mei and her "little mutant cat." Yu decided that now was not the time to get into the significant difference between cats and pandas.

"‹I suspect that before long, I shall be fluent in Amestrian swear words,›" Li Xue commented to her aunt.

Yu giggled behind her hand. "‹And more. Those weren't all Amestrian.›"

"‹No?›"

"‹I don't know if they were from another language or if he made them up, but they certainly weren't ones I recognized. And trust me, after being around my husband's military friends, I knew them all.›" Both women giggled at that.

"Oi." Edward had turned his glare to them. "You're talking about me, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?" Yu asked, with false innocence.

"We were only commenting on how . . . _interesting_ your language is," Li Xue added.

The young man looked like he couldn't decide whether or not to be insulted. Yu tried to suppress her laughter, but ultimately failed, sputtering and giggling behind her hand. Li Xue nudged her and made a disapproving gesture, but was only marginally better at containing her own giggles.

"Edward-san, we're not laughing at you, honest." Yu reached over and patted the blond on the shoulder. "It's . . . it's this situation. It's ridiculous, you have to admit."

He stared at her a moment more, his face screwed up into something between a scowl and a pout. Then he scoffed and looked to the side, scratching the still-gloved fingers of his right hand through his bangs. "I guess, if you're not the one being chomped on."

She patted his shoulder again. "I'm sorry, one of us should have warned you to stay away from Xiao Mei."

"She bit me on the way over," the younger woman added, showing the mark on her hand.

"I just didn't think she would be wandering around, she usually doesn't leave the princess's side."

He _hmph_ ed, but she thought he appreciated their efforts. Rather like a sullen child who wasn't quite ready to stop pouting.

"Still, maybe you should be a little more . . . tactful, with what you say to Princess Mei?" Yu continued.

"She started it," Edward grumped.

"Ah. Of course."

She left the young man alone, and eventually he rejoined one of the groups (though not, she noted, the same one as Mei). Curious when she saw him talking, she made her way over and stood at the edges to listen. He was explaining the three stages of Amestrian alchemy, the knowledge, deconstruction, reconstruction way of thinking that was much more rigid and compartmentalized than the Xingian method of working with the flows of energy. He then started talking about different kinds of arrays, the limits and uses of simple arrays, and different kinds of specialized arrays and when and why an alchemist would use them. At a question from one of his Xingian counterparts, he grabbed a piece of chalk and sketched several symbols on the table, explaining their different meanings and uses. After the first few he had to switch the chalk to his right hand because of his bitten finger, but this only seemed to slow him down marginally. This calm, logical Edward was quite a contrast from the boy who'd gotten into a shouting match with Mei a few moments ago. It wasn't so much that both sides existed in the same person as how quickly he had gone from one extreme to the other.

"It's been a long time since I studied," Yu commented at one point, "but I don't remember those runes being used to purify water."

"No, the traditional water purifying array simply mimics the effects of boiling." He quickly sketched the array as he talked. "That'll usually make it safe to drink, but it doesn't do anything about the minerals or particles in the water. That's why I added these. . . ." He modified the array, moving some symbols and adding others, explaining each rune and its position as he went along. ". . . But if you're not careful, this makes distilled water, and that's not good for you, either, so we added these, here, and switched these two around to weaken the effect. . . ." Someone asked him where he'd gotten the array, and he shrugged. "Al and I came up with it ages ago. I got tired of drinking nasty water when we were on the road."

All right, she was impressed. She was more than impressed. She could see now how he could have gotten a state license at such a young age.

The conversation shifted over to pharmacy, with one of the Xingian practitioners explaining about the flow of energy through the body and how it can be realigned to help a person heal. Yu stayed around to help with the language barrier.

"Healing alchemy," one young man, a state alchemist whose name she hadn't caught, mused some time later. "Wasn't there a doctor in Ishval who was doing that? I wonder what happened to him."

"Marcoh's dead."

Edward's tone was low and clipped, and his eyes had gone hard.

The other alchemist apparently didn't catch the hint. "His research should—"

"His research has been destroyed. All of it."

The other man finally looked at the blond, then quickly looked away from the intense gold gaze.

"Who is this person you talk about?" one of Yu's countrymen dared to ask. She had an impulse to hush him, but decided instead to see how Edward would react.

"No one," he said, quietly. His eyes went distant, and were suddenly much too old for his face. Then they snapped back into focus, and the look was gone. "Never mind him. You were telling me about feeling energy flows. . . ."

_Almost_ gone, Yu realized as she watched him. There were still shadows behind his eyes. Ones that reminded her a little of the shadows she'd seen behind her son's eyes after the war.

Toward the end of the day the group packed up, people dribbling off to eat or return home or do whatever else they had to do. Roy stopped by, finally done with the day's paperwork. It still twisted something inside her when she saw that eye patch. She hid it, not wanting him to think it revolted her, but she hated the thought that someone had hurt her baby that badly, and she hated that she hadn't been there for him the way a mother should. She didn't regret returning to Xing, but there were times where she sorely wished she could have both her son and her home.

"Major Carter," Roy said to the state alchemist. "How did it go?"

"Oh, it—it went well!"

Roy gave the man a flat look, having missed neither the hesitation nor the flick of his eyes toward the ponytailed blond standing off to one side. "What did he do?"

Said blond sputtered. "You—why are you assuming it's _my_ fault??"

The brigadier general gave him a raised-eyebrow look, then turned back to the major in front of him.

"It wasn't entirely his fault, sir. The animal did bite him."

"Animal?"

"The princess's pet, Shie—Zao—I forget what she called it. It bit Edward-san, and then . . . he and Princess Mei sort of started yelling at each other. . . ."

" _Did_ they."

"Nothing came of it, though, sir," Carter hurried to say. "And everything else went really well."

"Fullmetal?" Roy said evenly, regarding the scowling boy with a level stare. "Please don't start an international incident."

Edward's mouth fell open and he glared at the older man. "Why the fuck're you blaming _me_? It was _her_ mutant cat that bit _me_! I didn't do anything!"

"You were teasing Xiao Mei!" the princess called from the other side of the room.

"The hell I was!"

"Fullmetal."

The boy turned his glare back to Roy as one of Mei's attendants spoke with her. The two men—or man and boy, as Yu couldn't help but think of them—regarded each other for a moment, then Edward snarled, "Well, fuck you, too, bastard!" and left, striking the doorframe on his way out. Roy sighed and went to go speak with Mei.

* * *

"I hope that earlier has not caused trouble for you? At home?"

Roy smiled at his cousin's question as he unlocked the front door. "That? That was nothing to be concerned about."

"He did seem rather upset," his mother added.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Fullmetal gets himself worked up rather easily, but he rarely holds onto it for long. He'll be fine," he assured them as he pushed open the door. Saying that that was simply the way Ed was, that it was simply their dynamic, not only seemed inadequate but could cast both of them in a poor light, so Roy decided to let his family discover Edward for themselves. He couldn't think of a way to adequately describe the young man, anyway.

"Ed? Al?" he called once they were inside.

"Up here!" came Al's voice, from upstairs.

"Why don't you wait in the living room?" he said to the two women. "We'll be down in a moment."

Up the stairs and down the hall to Alphonse's room. Al was leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed. He smiled at Roy, then turned to look expectantly at the room's other occupant. Edward was sitting on his brother's bed with his chin resting on his automail hand. He glared briefly at Roy, then turned away.

"We should leave, we don't want to be late to the restaurant," the older man said. "How's your finger?"

The blond grunted, not bothering to look over.

"Nii-san, stop being so difficult."

Roy regarded his petulant lover fondly for a moment, suppressing an urge to smile. "While I meant what I said about an international incident . . . I don't blame you for losing your temper. Those teeth looked _sharp_."

Ed snorted, glancing up. "She did as much yelling as me, y'know. Why don't you get mad at _her_?"

"I would, but she has diplomatic immunity."

A corner of the young man's mouth twitched up in spite of himself.

"Besides, I'm not really mad," he said, finally allowing himself to smile. He cupped the back of the younger man's head and leaned over to press a kiss to his hair. "Now, come on. We need to leave for dinner."

"All right, all right, just let me get another pair of gloves." He shoved the older man aside and stood, but Roy didn't miss the way the metal hand lingered on his chest just a moment longer than necessary.

"It's odd," Alphonse commented as he and Roy went downstairs. "Nii-san doesn't usually have a problem with animals."

"This one is apparently very particular about who it likes, and is prone to biting." He chuckled. "I was afraid to get too close, myself. Ah, speaking of animals, I see you've met Magpie."

His mother looked up from the grey-and-white cat that had claimed her lap. "'Magpie'? That's an odd name for a cat."

"But, in this case, very appropriate."

Li Xue paused in cooing over the cat in Xingian long enough to ask her aunt what 'magpie' meant. Just then there was a thundering on the stairs as Edward ran down to join them.

"Shall we go, then?"

"I can drive," Ed offered, reaching for the glasses he kept in his breast pocket.

" _I'll_ drive," Roy countered. "I'd rather not have you giving my family any heart attacks."

Yu raised an eyebrow as she stood, shooing Magpie to the floor. "I'm hardly fragile."

"And I'm not old," Li Xue added.

"Are you implying that I am?"

"Edward's driving could give even a young person a heart attack."

"There's nothing wrong with my driving!"

"‹Auntie! I was not implying anything!›"

"You are rather . . . abrupt, Nii-san."

"It did sound that way, Li-Li."

"What do you mean, 'abrupt'?"

"‹Cousin!›"

"Like when you stop. . . ."

"Now now, if you're going to insult me, just come out and say it."

"Or when you turn corners. . . ."

"‹But I wasn't insulting!›"

"Or when—"

"There's _nothing wrong_ with my driving!"

"This old woman can take it."

"‹Aun-tieee!›"

This carried them outside and into the car and most of the way to the restaurant. Roy had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

* * *

Alchemy was the main topic of discussion at dinner. Edward was eager to tell his brother everything he'd learned that day (leaving out how sharp pandas' teeth were). Yu found herself trying in vain to explain some of the finer differences between the two sciences.

"You have to understand, I have been using a combination of the two methods for over thirty years, now," she said at one point. "In my mind they've gotten very mixed."

The topic unfortunately left Li Xue out of much of the conversation, but she seemed to have more than enough to occupy herself simply trying to eat with Amestrian utensils.

"It's not a weapon, Li-Li," Roy said with a chuckle when the Xingian woman tried unsuccessfully to jab the fork into one of the little potatoes on her plate. "I thought you had studied foreign cultures."

"I had not gotten to eating, ‹little cousin.›" She frowned and took aim again.

He held out a hand to stop her. "Woah, hold on, let's try this again. Hold it against your hand like you would a chopstick."

"But there's only one of it."

"Improvise. Oh, no, other hand. That's it. Tines the other way. Now pick up the knife in your other hand. No, hold it under your hand. Not so tightly—no, never mind, you'll get the feel for it later. Now, use the fork to brace the food while you cut it with the knife."

"Like . . . this?" Li Xue awkwardly trapped the potato between the utensils and pushed the knife into it.

"Yes, that's right."

"‹Chopsticks are so much easier,›" she muttered.

Yu hid a laugh behind her arm. "Be glad we are eating steak and not noodles."

Roy chuckled again, neatly cutting a piece off his steak. "I'm looking forward to watching some of the soldiers try to eat with chopsticks on Saturday."

"We'll try not to laugh too hard," Yu assured him.

Edward snickered, shoving a piece that was far larger than was polite into his mouth. He seemed to be having a bit of trouble with the fork himself, because of his sore index finger.

"You might have an easier time if you took your gloves off," she commented to him. "Doesn't the fabric interfere?"

"S'fine."

"Nii-san! Don't talk with your mouth full."

Roy had winced slightly at the lack of manners, but hadn't said anything, apparently leaving it to the younger brother to police the elder. It had been Yu's understanding that eating with gloves on was also considered rude, and she was surprised that no one had commented on the behavior.

After the meal was done and they were waiting for dessert—though really, only the two Elrics had much room for it—Yu indicated the coats the boys had draped over the back of an empty chair. "That symbol the two of you wear; that's an old alchemic sign, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Alphonse said, startled. "I'm surprised you recognize it."

"I did study alchemy," she told them wryly.

"Yeah, but that's _really_ old," Edward said, jerking his thumb at the coats. "Even Al and I didn't know what it was used for for a long time."

Roy turned to regard the hand-sized appliqué on the front of Ed's coat. "Even though you described it to me, I still have trouble picturing your crest in an array."

"Yeah. . . ."

There was something, a lot of something, left unspoken there, and after seeing the shadows flicker behind the eyes of both of the Elrics and, to a lesser extent, her son, Yu dearly wanted to know what.

"Sensei just uses it as a crest, though," the younger boy said, reaching over to smooth out the coat. "That's why Nii-san and I wear it."

"May I see it?" Li Xue asked. "I have studied symbols some."

"Of course." Alphonse smiled in that charmingly open way he had and stood to pass her one of the coats. It was almost enough to make Yu doubt the shadows she had seen in the young boy's eyes.

Dessert came while she studied, a chocolate cake piece they divided between them, with the boys getting the largest shares and the two women getting the smallest. Yu wasn't sure she'd be able to finish even that, the cake was quite rich.

"Snake is wisdom or knowledge, right?" the younger woman asked, taking a nibble of her piece of cake. "Crown is also wisdom, sometimes. A cross . . . restraint or bonds? Or protection. But wings is usually freedom. This is . . . the same and different." She frowned and said what she meant in Xingian.

Yu nodded, chuckling. "She means it seems to be made of contradictions and redundancies. It does seem so."

"Huh," Edward commented, halfway through his piece of cake and leaning on his right fist. The slight gap between the cuff of his sleeve and his glove revealed something that seemed to be metallic. "I guess. I never thought about it."

"The book I found it in—and you're right, the book was quite old—said it was used for . . . let me see . . . containing or tempering something volatile or dangerous."

"Did it say what?" The young man's slouched posture hadn't changed, but there was something sharp and wary in his eyes. Alphonse was also watching her intently, but his hazel eyes lacked the edge of his brother's gold.

"No, not that I remember," she told them. "But there were many notes in the book that I didn't understand. The original author's personal code, I think."

"Hm." The brothers exchanged a look, then seemed to shrug something off and went back to eating.

"Tempering the volatile, hm?" Roy mused, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together.

Yu raised an eyebrow at the look of mischief on her son's face. "Yes, I believe that's what it said."

"Seems to me that it's not too effective."

Ed paused with is fork raised. "Uh?"

The older man turned to smirk at the blond. He had to turn, because, once again, the young man was on his blind side. "After all, you've been wearing it for years."

Edward just blinked at him but Alphonse made a sudden choking noise and slapped a hand over his mouth. Yu caught on a second later and started giggling behind her hand.

"Wh—oh—you _bastard_." He smacked Roy's shoulder with the side of his fist and Roy winced. "Real _cute_ , Colonel."

Al hastily drank some water to clear his mouth, then laughed out loud. "You're right, Roy-san. It's _not_ effective."

"Al!" He aimed a punch at his brother but the younger one deflected it. "Stop taking _his_ side!"

"Well, he's _right_!"

"Okay, you two, not in the restaurant," Roy said, still chuckling.

"You started it, Colonel Shit," Edward muttered.

"I did, I know, but you're escalating it."

The young man huffed, but Yu thought she saw a hint of a smile at one corner of his mouth.

* * *

Roy drove them back to the embassy after leaving the two boys at the house. Li Xue bade her cousin good night and then went inside, leaving mother and son alone together for the first time since they'd arrived.

"You do look well," Yu said as she put her arm around his as they walked along the embassy grounds. "Despite what I said about not looking like you've been sleeping."

"And the grey hair?" he asked with a smirk.

She laughed. "Yes, and despite the grey hair. You seem to be . . . enjoying life, at least." Unlike after the war, when he'd seemed to be only going through the motions of living.

"I suppose I am." He went thoughtful, staring off into the distance. "Especially if you're comparing me with the last time you were here . . . that was one of my lowest points."

_One_ of.

"We really shouldn't go so long without seeing each other."

"No, we shouldn't. I kept thinking I should go and visit you, but then things kept happening, one after another. . . ." He sighed and fell silent again. "You don't . . . completely approve of my relationship with Edward, do you." It was a statement more than a question.

Yu linked her hands around his elbow. "It's not really my place to approve or disapprove."

"Approval doesn't work that way." He was watching her out of the corner of his eye. "It's not a right or a privilege. You just don't feel you can say anything." After a pause, he added, "That's why I'm asking."

She reached up to the back of his head and ruffled his hair, around the strap from the patch. "You always could tell when someone was trying to talk around something."

"It comes in handy," he said wryly, ducking his head slightly under her hand.

"I'll bet." She re-linked her hands, sighing. "My honest answer? I don't know. It . . . came as a surprise. I had always thought you liked women. You certainly seemed to enjoy dating them."

"I like women just fine, I've just . . . always liked men, also."

"Something you never felt the need to tell me."

"Mother. . . ." He gave her a pleading look. "How was I supposed to bring it up? I wasn't _dating_ men, so it couldn't come up that way. Until recently, it hadn't played a very significant part in my life." They came to a bench and sat down, under the light of one of the lamp posts in the courtyard. "Edward isn't the first man I've been attracted to, but he is the first man I've had a serious relationship with. The first _person_ I've ever been this serious about."

_But he's a child_! part of her wanted to cry. _An immature, petulant, ill-mannered child_!

"I also . . ." Roy was saying, ". . . could never quite be sure how you would react."

"React? To you liking men?"

"Mm." He nodded, turning to look at her. "I've known people whose families have disowned them for liking the same sex. I know you're not likely to do something that extreme, but . . . views on homosexuality never has come up as a topic of conversation."

"Oh, sweetie. . . ." She put her arms around him. "You're my son. Nothing can change that."

He didn't say anything, but she thought she sensed relief in the way he returned her embrace. She would be lying if she said she was completely comfortable with this. She'd never had a problem with the concept of homosexuality—she'd never _understood_ it, but she didn't have a problem with it—but that was thinking in the abstract. This was her _son_ , and that . . . made it different.

"Still," she said a moment later, hooking her arm around his again, "I had so wanted grandchildren."

"Mom."

Yu smiled sweetly at his put-upon look.

Roy looked out across the courtyard for a moment, then said, quietly, "There's still something that bothers you about him."

"He . . . seems like a dear boy." _As well as rude, and obnoxious, and childishly quick-tempered_. "But . . . I am concerned about his age."

Her son smiled in a way that made it clear he'd been waiting for her to bring that topic up. "Edward's twenty. There's fourteen years between us, give or take a handful of months. And yes, he used to be my subordinate, when he was in his early and mid teens. I've known him since he was eleven."

"I see. . . ."

"I never took advantage of my authority over him. Not in that way."

She looked at him, appalled and slightly offended by the implication. "Sweetheart, I never would have accused you of that."

"But the thought must have crossed your mind," he said with a small smile. "If only to think that other people would see it that way. And I did start having feelings for him when he was still technically a minor. He was fifteen."

"Fifteen. . . ."

"Mm." He chuckled suddenly. "Even if I _had_ been so inclined, I would have been too scared to try anything. There wouldn't have been enough left of me afterwards to identify."

"Oh, my." She smiled wryly. "Is his temper so dangerous?"

"Oh, I suppose so, yes, but I would have been more worried about his brother."

"Alphonse? But he seems like such a sweet boy."

He chuckled again. "He is, to a fault. But he's also an experienced combat alchemist and a talented martial artist, as well as _highly_ protective of his elder brother. I wouldn't want to get on his bad side. Luckily, his bad side is incredibly hard to find."

She thought back to the casual way he had deflected his brother's punch over dinner. "Well. It seems there's more to him than I thought."

"As is always the case with those two." His smile was thoughtful and fond.

But when Edward was fifteen, wouldn't Alphonse have been about eight? Ten, at the most? How much of a threat could he have been then?

But before she could voice those thoughts, Roy went on: "It did disturb me that I was attracted to someone who was so young. But it was the maturity in him that attracted me, not his youth." ("Maturity" was not a word Yu would have associated with the blond boy, but she stayed silent.) "Edward was young, but he was not a child. Still, I never said anything. Aside from it being illegal and inappropriate with both of us being in the military, we both had goals from which we couldn't afford to be distracted. And then . . . the goals were gone, but . . . so was Edward."

"Gone?"

"For three years, nobody—including his brother—knew where he was or what had happened to him. My life had fallen apart at that point, as well."

"The demotion and transfer you mentioned."

He nodded. "But that's another topic. When he disappeared, I promised myself that if I saw him again—if, when, sometimes I believed he was still alive, sometimes I doubted—I would tell him how I felt." He chuckled. "I thought the best I could hope for was a tolerant smile or a sympathetic look. I never— _never_ —imagined he would return my feelings." He smiled softly. "I'll never forget the look on his face when I said that yes, I had feelings for him. And I'll never forget how it felt when he hugged me, and told me he'd missed me."

Yu wasn't sure how to feel. Roy seemed genuinely happy. She had worried that she might never see him that way. Of course she was happy for him, as well as relieved. But even so, she couldn't get over the fact that he was . . . _together_ . . . with a boy. A _boy_ almost a decade and a half younger than he was, who was ill-tempered, foul-mouthed, and insulting. Like any mother, she thought her son deserved the best, and she just couldn't be sure that that meant Edward.

"Where had he gone?" she finally said.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you where he was," Roy said slowly. "It's not my place to tell."

"I see."

"I'm sorry."

She put her fingers to his hair again. "I am a little tired of you keeping things from me."

"It's not always by choice, Mom. You know that."

"Not _always_ by choice."

He was silent for a long time, staring out across the courtyard. In profile like this, with the low light obscuring his scars, she could almost pretend that the eye patch wasn't there, that her baby's face was still whole and perfect. But then he turned, and that triangular patch of shadow clung to his face like a void, and there was something dark and unreadable in his remaining eye. "No," he said, his voice low. "Not _always_ by choice."


	4. Chapter 3

"‹Cousin does seem happy,›" Li Xue said as she helped arrange the chairs in the courtyard.

"‹But that isn't what I asked,›" Yu persisted. "‹Move those two tables together and set the other two next to them,›" she said to the other workers, "‹no, over there.›" Turning back to her niece, she continued; "‹Don't they strike you as an . . . unusual match?›"

"‹But this is Amestris, not Xing,›" the younger woman said with a shrug, setting the chairs by the rearranged tables.

"‹And you are the one who has studied western culture for the last ten years,›" Yu countered. "‹That space needs to be clear, move those tables to the right.›"

"‹So how much age is between them?›"

"‹No, a little more, that's where the demonstration is going to be. Fourteen years, according to Roy.›"

"‹Well, not as bad as I'd feared. I hadn't thought Edward was quite that old.›"

"‹He's still little more than a child.›"

"‹Adolescents reach their majority at sixteen in Amestris.›"

"‹And you know as well as I that that is no more than a line in a legal text. How is that supposed to say how mature a person is?›"

"‹And how is fourteen years supposed to say how _immature_ a person is?›" Li Xue shot back. "‹Auntie, this table wobbles.›"

"‹It looks like a leg is bent.›" She fished a nub of chalk from her pocket and began to sketch an array on the surface of the table. It made her think of Edward drawing arrays the day before, scratching out the lines and symbols almost faster than she could follow the logic.

"‹Honestly, Auntie, Edward does seem somewhat . . . less than mature, at times, but I'm sure my cousin wouldn't be involved with him if he were truly still a _child_.›"

"‹I'm sure you're right.›" _I_ hope _you're right_. She activated the array, willing the bent leg back into its original shape. "‹I wasn't just referring to their ages, though.›"

"‹They _do_ seem to clash quite a bit,›" the younger woman mused.

"‹They do,›" Yu agreed. "‹Although Roy is certainly fond of him.›"

"‹He does seem to be, doesn't he?›"

"‹Li Xue!›"

"‹Oh! Yes, Princess?›"

"‹I have a favor to ask. Are you free?›"

Yu waved the two of them off, smudging out her array with her other hand. "‹We have more than enough hands to finish setting up.›"

She watched her niece leave with Princess Mei, then turned back to directing the arrangement of tables and chairs. Li Xue was right, of course; she didn't believe that Roy would have gotten involved with someone he believed to be a child. But her son had always been a passionate person, and in the past she had seen that passion blind him to reality. He wasn't just fond of Edward, he was _extremely_ fond of him; it was the reciprocal feeling she wasn't as sure of.

"Yu! Yu Mustang!"

She was pulled from her thoughts by a loud voice that triggered memories decades old. She turned, one hand on her chest from shock.

A broad-shouldered man with greying hair grinned broadly and waved to her. "Ha ha! There you are, Yu-chan! Pretty as ever, I see."

She laughed, walking over and slapping the man on the shoulder. "And you're just as much of a flatterer. Major General Johansen! What are you doing out here?"

"It's General Johansen, now, retired," her husband's former superior officer corrected her. He brushed at his sleeve, then nodded at her blouse with a grin. "Same old Yu, getting chalk dust everywhere."

She glanced down at the smudged white hand print and laughed. "Just a hazard—"

"—of being an alchemist," he finished with her. "Like I said, same old Yu. It's getting on toward lunch, why don't we grab a bite and catch up?"

"I really should stay 'till this is finished—"

"What, this?" he waved a hand at the tables. "It's not going to fall apart because you take an hour or two off."

"I suppose. . . ."

"Great! Come on, I passed by this charming little café on my way here."

* * *

Amestrians certainly seemed to like their large, imposing buildings. In Li Xue's opinion a house of knowledge should be more welcoming, although the atmosphere did command a certain level of respect.

She must have looked lost, because it wasn't long before a middle-aged woman with an indulgent smile came up and asked her if she needed assistance.

"Ah—yes. I am looking for . . . old news, I think."

The woman smiled and ushered her further in. "Then you've come to the right place, dear. The library is probably the only place where you can find old news. What sort of subjects are you looking for?"

"Alchemy. Any alchemy news, maybe five years old."

"Oh, for alchemy you'll want Olivia. Olivia-chan!"

A young woman looked up from the front desk, tugging her glasses down her nose to look over the frames, then walked over when the other woman beckoned.

"Olivia here is our resident alchemy expert."

"I'm hardly an expert. I just know a bit, that's all."

The older woman smiled and patted Olivia's arm. "The rest of us don't even know which end of an array goes up." Li Xue thought she heard the girl mutter "It's a _circle_ ," but the other librarian went on. "Olivia-chan, this lady here wants old news stories about alchemy. From five years ago, you said, dear?"

The Xingian woman nodded. "Yes, five years. More or less. I do not have exact times."

"About five years, huh?" The girl tugged thoughtfully on the end of her braided hair. "Local or national?"

"Both, I think. I do not know, this is not for me."

"Hm." She chewed on her bottom lip and glanced away for a moment, before turning back and looking at Li Xue over the rim of her glasses. "Well, just about everything news worthy concerning alchemy—local _or_ national—from about four to seven years ago involved the Fullmetal Alchemist—Edward Elric-san. You might want to just talk to him."

"Ah. . . ." The shouting match between Edward and Mei replayed in her mind. "If this was for me, I would, but . . . I think I stay with news for now."

"Okay. Well, let's go back to the archives, then, and I'll see what I can dig up for you."

* * *

Edward walked down the unused wing of the headquarters' complex and frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as he scanned the abandoned and mostly empty rooms along the hallway. This section was in serious need of remodeling, if the cracked walls and rusted fixtures he'd seen were any indication. But this was where Allensworth had said Roy would be. According to the warrant officer, the Brigadier General had already eaten a quick lunch at his desk over paperwork, and had then come here on his lunch break to . . . what, watch plaster chip?

Ed came to the correct room and started to reach for the door, then stopped. He could have sworn he heard something, a small, quick _pop_ , like a miniature explosion. Something that triggered teenage memories, something he hadn't heard in years. . . .

Gasping in realization, he quickly twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

Mustang glanced at him, a second longer than it would take to register who he was, and then raised a hand, a look of concentration on his face. A sharp, quick rasp of rough fabric, and a thin jet of flame shot toward a pile of cinderblocks stacked in the center of the room.

Ed realized he was holding his breath and let it out with an audible sound. "Roy, you—I thought—"

The older man appraised the scorched pile of bricks with a small smile. "It's not quite as tidy as it used to be."

The blond finally let go of the door and pushed it shut, then all but tackled his lover, throwing his arms around him and squeezing. Roy let out a theatrical _oof_ and staggered back a step. "I thought . . . I was afraid you'd given up alchemy."

"I had," he said in a strained voice. Ed rolled his eyes, but loosened his grip all the same. "I didn't think I'd be able to, after loosing my eye," Roy continued, putting an arm around the smaller man's shoulders. "That and . . . other reasons. But all this talk about alchemy made me realize . . . I miss it. So I thought I'd give it a try. Did Allensworth tell you I was here?"

"Yeah. What, you think I'd talk to Marcus? You know he only acknowledges me when he's forced to."

"Lieutenant Marcus acknowledges you."

"No, he _glares_ at me. When he thinks I'm not looking. Never mind him. You—fuck, Roy." He squeezed him again. "You're doing your _alchemy_ again."

"I would like for my ribs to stay intact, however."

"Wuss." Ed tipped his head back, and saw something in the single dark eye that had been missing for the past year, a certain pride and satisfaction that went deeper than the arrogance the man used as a front. He might try to play it off as flash and show, but Ed knew better, he'd seen the Flame Alchemist's old journals; Roy _loved_ alchemy. Ed knew what it felt like to have his confidence shaken; and he knew what it felt like to have something he loved tainted to the point of not wanting to use it.

"I wasn't expecting you to come by today, but I'm glad you did," the older man said. "I was planning to talk to you about this tonight. If I'm going to do any serious practicing, I'm going to need a spotter. Someone to be there in case . . . well, just in case."

Ed smiled, resting his chin on Roy's collarbone. "Since when do you ever let anything slip out of your control?"

"It's not as easy as it used to be." He looked over to the scorch-marked cinderblocks. "I can't judge distance very well." He sighed, one gloved hand idly rubbing the blond's shoulder. "We don't realize how much we take something like depth perception for granted until we lose it."

"You'll manage." He pressed a kiss to one blue-clad shoulder. "Lotsa birds don't have much depth perception, but you don't see them flying into things."

"Well, I hope I'm at least as smart as a bird," the older man said, sardonically.

Ed snickered. "We'll see." He leaned back a little to meet his lover's smirk. The man was just fucking sexy, it shouldn't be legal for a man to be that sexy. What did it matter that part of his face was covered by the patch, that just meant he was willing to take a stand for what he believed. Edward reached up and caressed his lover's cheek with his metal palm, stroking his thumb against the eye patch, so lightly that the pressure sensors barely registered that he was touching something. "You'll manage," he repeated. He ran the hand back and threaded gloved fingers into the short, dark strands. "You always find a way."

The dark eye softened a bit as the smirk turned into a smile. "Only because I've always had such great help."

The blond returned the smile, then went up on tiptoe to claim it, waiting only a moment before flicking his tongue against those lips to ask for entrance. It was eagerly granted, and Roy leaned forward, pressing him back onto his heels, sliding his tongue against Ed's as Ed explored the far corners of his mouth.

The older man sucked on his tongue lightly, almost thoughtfully, before pulling back and smirking down at him. "Mmm . . . this is turning you on, isn't it. . . ."

"I want to fuck you," the smaller man admitted, fisting his hands in the front of his uniform. "Now."

Roy leaned down until their noses were touching and flicked his tongue out to lick up some of the saliva around Ed's mouth. "Aren't you meeting with that librarian this afternoon?"

"I can be late, she probably will be."

He _tsk_ ed. "And in addition to my regular work, I have to help set up for tomorrow."

"Shit."

The older man leaned forward the rest of the way then, taking his mouth in a kiss that started out soft and gentle but quickly built in intensity. Ed pulled down on the uniform and moaned as he fought his lover for control, nipping at his lips and pushing back with his tongue. Suddenly his shirt was pulled from his pants, and rough-gloved hands were pressing against his bare skin, the thumbs moving against his waist, just on the _edge_ of tickling, and Ed gasped into the kiss.

Roy took full tactical advantage, plunging in his tongue and thoroughly fucking the other man's mouth as his thumbs stroked his stomach.

Ed squeaked softly as his mouth was claimed, afraid to move for the hands at his waist, and not entirely sure he _wanted_ to. The man was just so fucking sexy when he was on a power trip. But two could play at this.

The blond closed his mouth, letting his teeth bite just gently into the other man's tongue. He felt the older man stiffen a little in surprise, and he smiled to himself as he sucked on his captive.

When they finally broke apart they both drew back a little, staring at each other and both short of breath. "Bastard," Ed panted. "What the fuck'er you doing, getting me worked up like this if I can't fuck you?"

"Well. . . ." The hands moved upwards, causing the younger man to gasp again at the sudden movement. "We do have a _little_ time."

The thumbs lightly circled his nipples, the rough texture gaining an instant reaction. Ed groaned and let his head fall forward between his hands, arching his back to give those wonderful, talented hands room to work.

The older man kissed his hair. "Like that, hm?"

"Bas . . . tard. . . ."

The bastard chuckled, slowly caressing and prodding the sensitive nubs. Ed whimpered.

The blond pressed his forehead into his lover's chest and tried to stifle a moan as the fingers gently pinched and plucked at his nipples. "Sh-shouldn't we—lock the door?"

"Why? No one comes down here."

"But—what if— _ah_!" One hand skated down his stomach, causing him to jump. "Watch it, you bastard! That tickled!"

Roy kissed his hair again, pressing the offending hand firmly against his stomach and lightly caressing a nipple with the other. "My apologies."

He deftly worked Edward's belt and pants open, barely slowed by the glove, then slipped the hand inside his shorts and cupped him.

Ed went up on his toes and let out a quiet keening noise. His brain was screaming at him that this was really _not_ the place _or_ the time, and they really should _at least_ lock the door, but his body was completely at the mercy of the man in front of him, held captive by light touches from rough-gloved hands. "You're gonna get your glove wet," he managed through a groan.

"Give me a _little_ credit." He shifted, adjusting the pressure of his hands just so, and Ed found himself taking tiny, awkward steps backwards. Talk about being led around by the balls. "I'd like to think I know my lover well enough by now."

"Arrogant . . . fucking— _ah_!" The younger man was interrupted by his ass bumping into the wall. Roy chuckled, and pushed him back to lean against the wall, gently kneading his testicles. The texture was _just_ on the edge of too much, and it felt—so— _good_.

"Yes, yes, I know." The older man kissed him, slow and sensual, and pried his hands off his jacket. "And that turns you on . . . _doesn't_ it."

Ed wanted to deny it—arrogant bastard didn't need any more of an ego-boost—but what was the point? The fucker obviously had him in the palm of his hand. Quite literally, at the moment. So he said nothing, just watched as the dark-haired man knelt in front of him, expression so smug and confident that Ed wanted to fuck him through the floor. Damn sexy bastard.

The hand left him and Ed whimpered, even if it was only moving to help the other hand push the clothes down to his thighs.

"Patience, Love."

"Fuck patience."

One dark eyebrow arched, and then Roy nosed him at his base, his lips moving over his sack, light and teasing against skin so recently sensitized. Ed whimpered again and dug his fingers into the wall behind him, doing his best not to buck his hips.

"Roy," he mewled. "Roy, that . . . oh _fuck_. . . ."

The older man drew one testicle into his mouth and hummed, and Ed threw his head back, arching away from the wall and letting out a strangled moan.

The mouth drew back and kissed him, once, twice, and again, the gesture a mix of lust and affection, something that never failed to turn the younger man into putty. He drew in a shaking breath and straightened his back, dropping his chin to his chest, and met the dark, heated gaze directed up at him.

"You're so beautiful like this, Love." His voice was low, husky, his breath ghosting over spit-moistened skin and making Ed shiver. "So very beautiful."

"Roy. . . ."

The older man steadied his cock with one hand, while the other pinned the blond's hip against the wall. He drew his tongue up the under side in a long, slow lick, then closed his lips around the head. Ed jerked against the hands holding him back, unable to stop himself from trying to thrust, and Roy arched his eyebrow again. He sucked lightly for a moment, teasingly, and the younger man bit his lip. His thighs starting to quiver from the effort of holding still.

Roy hummed approvingly and went down on him, taking in as much as he could. He was holding him by the thighs now, his thumbs digging into the skin near his groin.

Edward moaned as the dark-haired man started moving, pulling back to the head and then taking him in again, back and down, building a steady rhythm. By rights Ed should be the one in control here; he had his lover on his knees, sucking him off. But Roy was the one with all the power, all the control. The younger man was completely at his mercy, and _fuck_ if that wasn't a turn-on.

He scrabbled against the wall, panting in an attempt to not moan too loudly. Never mind that this was an unused wing; they were still at headquarters, and they hadn't even locked the fucking door. Although at this rate, he wasn't going to last very long. " _Ah_ —Colonel, I'm—fuck—"

One hand moved, the thumb stroking his inner thigh, then traveling back to press against the sensitive skin behind his balls. Ed's head fell back against the wall again, his mouth open in a silent cry and his hips jerking as he came.

Distantly, he heard Roy gag, but the man stayed on him, swallowing as much as he could and licking up what he missed before he pulled away. The hands on his thighs were the only thing holding the young man up now. When their support withdrew he slid down the wall, but strong arms caught him before he hit the floor, gathering him against a warm, broad chest and arranging him as the taller man sat back on his heels.

"No falling asleep," said a deep, amused voice. "You have an appointment to keep, remember?"

"B'stard." Ed closed his eyes and pressed his nose against Roy's neck, the fabric of the uniform soft and a bit scratchy against his cheek. He breathed in the scent of wool and sweat and aftershave and sex. The arms around him shifted, nudging him this way and that, and then he felt ungloved fingers in his hair.

"You might want to do something about the state of your hair, though, Love," Roy said as he carefully slid the tie free. Ed just grunted. The older man chuckled, finger-combing his lover's hair into some semblance of neatness and retying it. "There. At least now you can claim it was the wind. Of course, it really won't make a difference unless you fix your clothing."

"Idiot." Edward rolled his eyes and pushed himself up. "You might want to think about your own clothes. Your uniform's looking a bit rumpled."

"That's easy enough to fix." He smirked and smoothed a hand down the front of his jacket, twitching the uniform back into place, then ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back down.

Ed barely resisted the urge to bury his fingers in that thick, dark hair again. "I'm fucking you as soon as we get home tonight."

"What about dinner?"

"We'll order something—oh, shit, no, Winry's train gets in at six tonight, that's what I came here to tell you. Fuck."

"Hm. I guess you'll just have to wait, then."

Fucking arrogant, fucking _sexy_ bastard. Ed grabbed the front of his uniform again, undoing the careful primping, and pulled him into a bruising kiss, moaning softly when he tasted himself on his lover's lips. "I'm fucking you just as soon as I get the fucking chance, Colonel Bastard."

"Is that a promise, Fullmetal?"

"You're fucking right it is."


	5. Chapter 4

"They didn't!"

"I'm telling you, I saw I myself!"

Yu laughed along with her husband's former superior, enjoying the stories of old friends and acquaintances she had lost touch with over the years.

"You shouldn't stay away for so long, Yu-chan. There's too much for you to catch up on."

"Yes, indeed," she mused. "But, Major General—I'm sorry, General—"

"Bah." He waved a hand. "I'm tired of that old title. Just call me Charles."

"Charles, then. You still haven't told me why you've come out here. Especially since you've been stationed in the west?"

"I've been in Central these last few weeks, actually." He finished off his sandwich and wiped his hands on his napkin. "Getting the finer points of my retirement straightened out. So when news of the little group from the east came by, I decided to come out and see if my little Yu-chan was with them."

Yu smiled again, toying with her fork, and waited.

"Ah, I also wanted to see how your boy was doing. There's a lot of talk about him in Central. Some people are just waiting for him to crash, y'know. After this demotion and then _un_ demotion business, people are saying he's not really cut out for command, that it was his old staff that did all the work."

"Is that so?"

"He's young to be a brigadier general, y'know. Some people don't like how alchemists start with such a high rank, they say it's an unfair advantage. I say, let them have their rank, and if they can't handle it, then they won't get promoted, same as the rest of us."

She folded her hands and rested her chin on her fingers, putting on her best "ignorant foreigner" face. "I'm not sure I understand why his rank changed so much. I didn't think the military would do that so lightly."

"It wasn't lightly, he had some pretty heavy accusations against him."

"But if that was so, then why did they give him _back_ his rank?"

"No proof. His demotion was done on shaky ground in the first place."

"Ah, Major—I'm sorry, Charles, you've confused me too much. How could the military demote him with no reason?"

"They had _reason_ —at least a lot of 'em thought they did—what they didn't have was _proof_. The only reason it stuck as long as it did was because he didn't fight it right away. But I tell you, if there had been an _ounce_ less doubt. . . ." He shook his head. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but your boy would've been facing a firing squad."

Yu put a hand to her mouth. The reaction might have been played up, but her shock was very real; she'd never imagined the charges had been _that_ serious. What had her little boy gotten mixed up in?

"Roy's a fine boy and a good officer, and I'd hate to've seen it, but considering the charges. . . ." The man leaned forward over his plate and lowered his voice. "Y'see, he was accused of _killing_ the _Fuhrer_. There're still those who think he did."

"And you?" she asked, fighting to control her voice. "What do you think?" Charles Johansen had his blind spots—she always could play him into telling her more than he maybe ought—but she'd always admired him for his level head and his insistence on relying on facts instead of emotions.

"I don't know what to think," he admitted. "It's pretty suspicious, but I don't really see how he could have. None of it adds up."

She frowned and tilted her head to one side. "Not add up?"

"It's like this." He glanced around, then leaned further over the table. "About four years ago now, the Fuhrer went missing. He's presumed dead, but no body was ever found. You can see why it'd be hard to make a case, right? But just before then, your boy and another state alchemist, Major Armstrong, were sent north with a squadron to deal with some problem or another. Only they didn't get that far. They weren't a day out of Central before they halted all progress, and half the squadron turned traitor, supposedly on Armstrong and Mustang's orders."

"Turn traitor?"

"That's the word. Most of the charges were dropped in light of what was uncovered after, but that's a different story. Thing is, when this went down, none of the soldiers there could say with any certainty that Brigadier General Mustang was actually with them. Some of 'em swear they saw him when they left Central, but none of 'em can remember him giving any orders or even talking to any of the men. The Armstrong boy was the one who actually gave all the orders. He took the fall for it, too, although it got argued down until he was simply discharged."

"I don't understand. Was Roy instigating a rebellion or not?"

"Not unless he can be in two places at once. Because he was undeniably in Central that same night."

"In Central?"

"Here's where things get really fuzzy. This is what we do know: the Fuhrer suspected an intruder in his home, and he sent his family off while he went to go deal with it. He didn't even allow any guards to go with him, he sent them all off with his wife and kid. Only before they could get anywhere, they crash into Frank Archer. _He's_ another story altogether; let me just say that the man was _not_ in his right mind. So here he is babbling about needing to get to the Fuhrer, and when the guards tell him they have orders to keep everyone away from the mansion, he opens fire on them and steals a car. Somewhere in all this Bradley's boy—poor lad—slips off and runs back home.

"Well, when the guards finally got back to the Fuhrer's residence, they found Lieutenant Hawkeye—oh, she'd been at the mansion, so the guards had been taking her along with the Fuhrer's family; apparently she'd run off in the commotion, too— she was crouched down over Mustang, trying to shake him awake, and little Selim was a few feet way with a broken neck and Archer's body was out on the lawn. She said she'd come just in time to see Archer shoot at Mustang with no provocation, so Hawkeye'd shot _him_ —protecting her commanding officer, no charges were ever filed against her for it."

_So that's how_ , Yu thought to herself. _So that's what happened to Roy's face_.

"No one knows what happened to Fuhrer Bradley. The wine cellar in the mansion was wrecked and burning, but not so badly that there wouldn't've been _something_ left—y'know, if there's been a body in there. Mustang says he doesn't remember much about that night. The doctors said that wasn't surprising, considering he took a bullet to the head. So all he remembers is that he'd heard word of something suspicious at the Fuhrer's residence and had gone to investigate. From what I hear, he definitely looked like he'd been in some kind of fight. They found one of the Fuhrer's sabers down in the cellar, and it looked like it might have had blood on it, but it was too scorched to really tell."

"So Roy . . . had been the only one there."

"Aside from Bradley's boy, yeah. But if he did kill Bradley, what did he do with the body? He wasn't in any shape to have dragged it anywhere, and anyway the grounds were searched thoroughly. If he'd burned it or transmuted it, there would have _something_ left. The only other thing they found in the cellar was some sort of puddle nobody could identify."

"A puddle?"

"Or what was left of one. Seems it was organic, but it wasn't wine, and it wasn't blood—although there _was_ blood in the cellar—and nobody was quite sure what to make of it.

"And another thing; the way the Bradley boy's neck was snapped would've taken incredible strength. Not only that, the experts say whoever did it used their bare hands. Your boy just doesn't have that sort of strength. Not many people do. The Armstrong boy, maybe, but he was confirmed to be up north, and anyway he doesn't have the disposition. Come to that, neither does Roy."

"Maybe . . . someone else was there?"

"There wasn't much evidence of that, but I don't see how else to explain it. Frankly, I don't see how to explain it at all. But I've looked at all the scenarios, and I just don't see how Mustang could have killed Bradley and gotten rid of the body so thoroughly, not to mention snapped Selim's neck like that. It just doesn't add up."

"I see." Yu picked up her coffee and sipped it slowly, her eyes on the tablecloth as she tried to sort out her thoughts. Her baby, a murderer? Her guts twisted at the idea, but he'd been in war, and the battlefield . . . _did_ things to people. He had killed, she knew that, but under orders, _always_ under orders. Could he have killed— _murdered_ a man on his own? And what of the child?

"Now, I'm not saying that whatever happened to the Fuhrer was justified," Charles went on, "but there was a lot that came out into the light after he was gone, things that show that maybe he wasn't as clean as everyone thought."

She looked up and lowered her mug. "Oh?"

"Evidence about cover-ups in the Ishval war, like soldiers who were supposedly reassigned who never showed up again, and a death certificate for the woman who was supposed to have started the war—a death certificate dated some years _before_ the war started. That same woman, or someone using her identity, was acting as the Fuhrer's secretary some years later, and then—get this— _she_ disappears around the same time as the Fuhrer."

"Is that so. . . ."

"That's only the start of it. There's shaky grounds for most of the skirmishes the Fuhrer got the army involved in. There's also evidence of funds being siphoned off, and all the trails on that lead to dead ends. From what I heard, the best lead was a tentative connection to some woman named Dante, an old recluse who lived in the southern area, but she died some months before the Fuhrer, and there's evidence that that wasn't her real name. There's also rumors of underground projects and experiments using death row prisoners, chimeras—all sorts of stuff. A whole laboratory, in fact, that was supposed to've been condemned, but was far too heavily guarded and had been seeing far too much activity around it."

"I see. . . ."

"With that, and what happened in Liore, and the military's best PR disappearing—"

"PR?"

He chuckled. "The Fullmetal boy. He's called the People's Alchemist, y'know. Right before the Fuhrer went missing, he supposedly turned traitor and stormed headquarters, just him and some unidentified woman, and then he up and vanishes. Wasn't seen or heard from until about a year ago."

" _For three years, nobody—including his brother—knew where he was or what had happened to him_."

"Popular opinion now is that he'd gotten wind of some rottenness at the core of the military, and was trying to root it out. Anyway, what with all that, parliament and the military went pretty light on anyone suspected of acting against Bradley toward the end there. They couldn't risk becoming unpopular."

"I see. . . . So, Edward-san—he was gone for three years? Where was he all that time?"

"No one knows. Not that I've heard. There was an inquiry when he came back, of course, but to be honest, I don't think they pushed him too hard. The military needs all the good PR they can get right now, and court marshalling a favorite just for acting in what everyone says was the best interests of the people would be a bad, bad move." He laughed and sat back, and Yu managed a smile that didn't feel too forced.

"Had you known him back then?"

"The Fullmetal boy? Nah, not really. I met him once though, when he came through my area. He couldn't have been more than thirteen, maybe fourteen at the most. Foul-mouthed little brat with a chip on his shoulder the size of Central, stomping about in that gaudy coat of his, like he was afraid someone might overlook him. And his brother? He was wearing this huge suit of armor with spikes all over it."

"Armor?"

He waved a hand about a foot over his own head. " _Full_ armor, real mediaeval stuff, and I mean _huge_. I don't see how anyone smaller than the Armstrong boy could even move in it, but this kid wore it like he was born to it. He never once took it off, from what I hear. Not for years."

"Well. I suppose boys like to play-act, but this sounds a little. . . ."

"Extreme?" he finished for her.

"Indeed. Alphonse-san may be a strong boy, but he is not much taller than his brother. And he would have been no more than child back then."

Charles laughed again. "I mistook _him_ for the Fullmetal Alchemist at first. With all that armor, the name would fit, y'know? He was embarrassed, but the _real_ Fullmetal brat was downright pissed about it. Then I made the mistake of mentioning the little guy's size—I don't think anyone makes _that_ mistake twice. I probably should have disciplined him for insubordination, but he was just a kid. And anyway, I owed him for taking down this rogue alchemist we'd been trying to root out for months. Kid was a powerhouse, if you believe even _half_ the rumors about him."

"And do you? Believe them?"

"I know he brought that rogue alchemist down, just him and his brother, and there must have been _some_ reason to give a state license to a twelve-year-old." He sipped his coffee. "Speaking of the Fullmetal boy, there are some other, um, rumors going around recently. . . ."

He coughed and tugged at his ear, and Yu smiled. She could guess what _these_ were about, but was having too much fun watching her old friend squirm. "My, there seems to be so many rumors lately."

"Yes, well. Seems when Roy moved to East here, the Fullmetal boy moved with him, so word is—eh—well, you know."

She raised her eyebrows and gave him an innocent smile.

"Your boy used to be pretty well known with the ladies, but there's talk now that—he and the Fullmetal kid—well, they _are_ living in the same house, after all, it's pretty suspicious even if they aren't really—you know—"

"Together?" she said, finally taking pity. "That rumor, at least, I can confirm for you."

"So then they are—um—y'know."

"Together. Yes, it seems so. Roy told me as much in the letter he sent last year."

"Last year? So this was even before they moved out here."

"If they moved in together _when_ they moved here, it would have had to have been, hadn't it?"

"Ha! I suppose so. I just have a hard time thinking of your boy as—well." He tugged his ear again.

_So do I_ , Yu agreed silently. Aloud, she said, "So this has also become talk in Central? What is being said?"

"You know how the military is, everybody's always in everybody's business, nobody can eat lunch without word of it going around command. But this is . . . hm. A little more unusual than most rumors, y'know? There's some nasty ones that I won't repeat, but I'm sure you can guess. I wouldn't believe bullshit like that in a million years. Roy's not that kind of person, and Fullmetal—well, I told you what a powerhouse he was, and quick tempered, at that."

"Yes, the temper I have seen for myself."

"Don't tell me he mouthed off at you!"

"Not at me, no. But I had a good view."

He laughed again. "Well. You can see, then, why I don't think he'd put up with anyone—eh—taking advantage of him, as it were."

"Mm."

He coughed and looked off to the side, sitting back and sipping his coffee. At length, he went on; "Y'know, this talk about Roy being unfit for command . . . I tell you, he must have been doing _something_ right. I had one of his former subordinates for the last few years, a fellow named Breda. When he got word Mustang was going to challenge the demotion, and he immediately set to work, digging up anything that could be used to get the sentence overturned. Not just him, either. I poked around some, and it seems all of Mustang's former office staff were doing the same. There was nothing in it for them, either. I watched. No kickbacks, no favors, nothing. They just wanted to help out their former commander." He shook his head. "You can't buy that sort of loyalty."

Yu smiled—a genuine smile, this time—and tried to put thoughts of murders and aside while she listened to the lengths her son's former subordinates would go to to serve and support him.

* * *

" _What_." Ed said in exasperation when he noticed the librarian giving him yet another sidelong look.

"Nothing! Nothing." She glanced at him again over the rim of her glasses and added, "You just, seem to be in a good mood, that's all."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Can't I be in a good mood?" Shit, he better not be blushing. "Is there something wrong with being in a good mood?"

"No, of course not." She cleared her throat and ducked her head over her notebook, and Ed could swear she was fighting a grin.

Fucking perceptive librarian. Edward sighed and rubbed his automail over his face, hoping the metal would pull some of the heat away. At least he could use the excuse of meeting Winry at the train station to escape before long. "Oh yeah. Al told Winry about this book you're doing, so now she wants to meet and, y'know, talk or something."

She grinned at him. "Give me embarrassing stories about you as a kid, you mean?"

"Probably. Hey, don't forget I get final say about what goes in this thing."

"I know, I know. I'm sure she has enough blackmail on you to get a few in, though."

Ed grumbled under his breath and watched her write something in the margin. He'd tried reading her notes once, but they were so full of inserts and scribbles in the margins and between lines that they might as well have been written in code. "She has to catch the train to Central on Sunday, but maybe tomorrow, after the demonstration."

"Okay. I'm not working tomorrow, so that's fine. Oh, that's reminds me." Olivia tugged off her glasses and set them on her notebook. "Someone from the Xingian embassy came by earlier, looking for old news articles about alchemy."

"It wasn't an obnoxious little girl with a mutant cat, was it?"

"Um, no . . . we don't allow animals in here anyway," she muttered, giving him a blank look. "It was a woman in her thirties. She said her name was—" she winced, "—I'm so going to mangle this—Lee Shoo or something."

Ed started. "Li Xue??"

"Yeah, that was it. She said she was looking for news articles from about five years ago. I suggested she talk to you, since you pretty much _were_ the alchemy news back then, but she said this wasn't for her."

"Did she say who it _was_ for?"

"No, although I suggested that maybe that person should come in themselves."

"You didn't ask who it was?"

She gave him a look. "Edward-san, librarians are supposed to be _conduits_ for knowledge. We're not supposed to be nosy."

He glanced down at her notebook and grumbled, "I dunno, you're nosy enough."

She grinned. "Moonlighting."

He snorted. "So what sort of things was she looking for?"

"Pretty general stuff. She didn't seem to know. That's why I suggested this other person come in. But I think she was mostly trying to get a sense of what kind of stuff was reported on back then."

"Why would she want to know that?"

"That would've been being nosy."

"Fucking librarian ethics."

She grinned again and bent her head to write in the notebook. "Anything from East is gonna be pretty biased, though, like I said," she said after a moment. "You were our Golden Boy, after all."

"Was I really in the news so much?" He'd never paid much attention to newspapers, being of the opinion that they never had anything important to say and so were not worth his time.

"Are you kidding me? You were our pride." She looked up and waved her pen. "East City's always been more or less ignored by the rest of the country. Central gets all the attention, and people seem to think we're not much more than a bunch of hicks. But hell, _we_ had the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Huh." Ed slouched back in his chair and scratched his nose. "I'd never really thought of it like that." He and Al had been on the road more than not back then, and he hadn't thought of East or any other place as home; he'd never considered that the place he reported to between assignments would claim _him_. "So I guess you were here back then." That was something else he hadn't considered; that part of his life seemed so distinct from his life now that he was startled any time there was any overlap.

"I've lived in East since I was a kid," she confirmed. "I used to work at the grocery down by the base. I'd see you come in all the time with your brother, back when Alphonse-kun was still wearing the armor." Olivia hadn't yet come out and asked about the armor, but Ed knew it was only a matter of time. He still wasn't sure what he would tell her. "You'd always ask for a sample and he was always getting on your case for it."

"Eh." He grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "I guess I did ask for free food a lot."

"As your brother often pointed out, you _must_ have already known what everything tasted like," she said with a teasing smile. "You always bought something, though, so we never minded." She picked up her glasses, then paused. "That reminds me, some of the girls had a bet going about you and Mustang-san. I wonder if anyone ever collected."

Edward sputtered and jerked forward. "About me and—me and the _Colonel_? Back _then_?? The fuck—?"

She tugged on her braid. "Well, you _were_ always complaining about him, and it really _was_ like the way a kid acts about a crush sometimes. . . ."

"There was a bet that—that I had a—"

"No, they all pretty much agreed on that. The bet was on what you would do about it. Y'know, like whether or not you would act on it, and whether you'd get shot down or if Mustang-san would actually go for it, that sort of thing."

"Fuck." He leaned forward and buried his face in his hand. "Never shopping there again."

"Oh, don't worry, most of us don't even work there anymore. I doubt anyone there even knows about that old bet." She was grinning at him, he was sure of it.

" _Please_ don't mention this to Roy." The bastard would never let him live it down.

She stifled a giggle as her pen started scratching across the paper again.


	6. Chapter 5

"Ed, you're supposed to start applying the break as you _approach_ a stop sign, not _when you're already on it_."

"Shut up; it's not like your driving's any better."

"I have excellent driving and you know it. If you crash that car don't expect me to come up here to get it working for you again."

"I've never _crashed_."

"Yet."

Ed grumbled as he opened the front door. "See if I ever pick you up at the station again."

"I'd probably live longer if you didn't—kitty!" Winry dropped her bag in the entry way and crouched to hold out her hand to the little grey and white feline that had come trotting in from the kitchen. "Aw! When did you guys get a cat?"

"Eh. . . ." Ed picked up the dropped bag and watched as Magpie gave the offered hand a polite sniff and then a rub. "Remember that thunderstorm we had about a month ago? Really bad one?"

Winry laughed and scratched the cat between the ears. "That figures. You're lucky you found someone idiot enough to take you in, yes you are! Aw, you're a friendly little guy, aren't you?"

Ed hunched his shoulders and didn't comment as he went to deposit Winry's bag and suitcase in the spare room.

When he came back out he found Magpie giving his friend a very thorough welcome. Ed folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow at the scene.

"Yes, you're very sweet, but you're getting— _pft_ —cat snot all over my face, and —ha ha! That tickles, stop that—"

"You _could_ stand up, y'know."

"Ed's a big meanie, isn't he, you— _wagh_! Eww, he tried to stick his nose up my nose!"

"Be glad he didn't get your mouth." He reached down and picked up the cat, only to have the adolescent feline attack his automail. He hitched the cat into his left arm and wiggled his right fingers for Magpie to bat at. "Al's working closing at the bookstore and Roy's helping set up for tomorrow, and neither of them'll be home until after seven, so it's up to us to get dinner."

"Can we— _pffft_ —" Winry paused to rub cat fur off her face. "—Can we order pizza?"

"You got a problem with my cooking?"

" _Unlike_ your driving, your cooking is fine. I just haven't had pizza in ages."

Ed grinned and headed for the phone.

* * *

" _Mm_ —no one in Resembool even knows what pizza _is_ , I swear. And it never turns out quite right when I make it."

"'N kno'—" Ed finished his bite and added, "There's some trick to the crust."

"And they've got those big ovens—there must be some way to reproduce those in a smaller scale, it's gotta be in the heat reflection and air circulation—"

"You'd still have to figure out the crust, though." He took another bite, pulling back and breaking the cheese strings with his fingers.

"You better not get cheese stuck in your joints."

"'N na' 'N na'!" he insisted, scrubbing his right hand on a napkin. He couldn't win; if he kept his gloves on, he got scolded for lack of manners and for getting the fabric dirty. If he took them off, he was in danger of getting food in his automail.

"And stop talking with your mouth full."

Ed rolled his eyes and gave up altogether.

"So what's she like?" Winry asked after a few more bites. "Roy-san's mom. Is she nice?"

"I think I know where he gets his sarcasm from. No, she's nice."

"But—?"

He sighed and took a bite. "I dunno," he said after a moment. "I kinda, get the feeling that, she doesn't—doesn't quite like me or something. Not like she hates me or anything, she just—I dunno. 'M not sure she _likes_ me."

"Maybe she wasn't prepared for her son to get involved with a guy."

"Yeah. Not sure if it's that, or . . . something else."

"Probably just has a problem with you."

"Hey!"

"What? You don't always come off well, Ed. I mean, _I_ love you, but I've also known you since forever. You gotta think about what kind of first impression you give people."

He sighed and leaned against his fist. Trust Winry to confirm his fears.

Winry started to stay something more, but they got interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Al's voice calling out "I'm home!"

"Hey Al!"

"Winry! Hi! How was your trip? Were the trains okay?"

"Trains are trains. It was fine, Al."

Ed watched with big-brother amusement as Winry stood to receive a hug from Al. They'd never been a particularly huggy family, but Winry had told him how Al had been almost clingy just after he'd been restored, as if he'd been trying to make up for his years in the armor, the years he couldn't feel, even though he hadn't been able to remember them. Ed wondered now if Winry had noticed that there was a different quality to Al's physical demonstrativeness when she was involved.

Al wasted no time in helping himself to some pizza, and the three of them fell into a conversation on, of all things, pizza ovens. They were discussing whether they needed to be brick or if ordinary home ovens could work just as well when the door opened again.

"Hm, smells like someone ordered pizza," Roy's voice called from the entry way.

"Come get some before these two bottomless pits eat it all," Winry called back.

Ed kicked her under the table and promptly got kicked back. That really hadn't been fair, he didn't eat nearly as much as he used to. But Winry wouldn't be Winry if she didn't tease him at every opportunity.

Roy draped his uniform jacket over the back of a chair and leaned one hand on Ed's shoulder as he sat. "How was your trip, Winry-san?"

"Well enough. You'd think with technology nowadays they could make train seats a little more comfortable, but otherwise it was fine."

Roy chuckled and helped himself to the pizza. Ed watched him for a moment before returning to his own slice. The older man was still a little awkward around Winry, but aside from that, he seemed . . . distracted. Ed would have thought that with what took place earlier he'd still be in a good mood.

Sometime toward the end of the meal Winry frowned suddenly. "Oh yeah—I spoke with Rosé recently. She said some guy was nosing around Liore. She said Armstrong-san scared him off before he really talked to anyone, but he was asking questions about the military."

Roy nodded. "Mm. Alex told me about that."

Edward narrowed his eyes at his lover. "What's going on?" Unspoken was, _what are you keeping from me_?

"At the moment, it's nothing," the older man said with a raised eyebrow. He paused for a moment, then continued, "Some of the soldiers who were in Liore are starting to want to come forward about the treatment of the citizens there, but it's . . . touchy. Hakuro still has a lot of support."

"So who was this guy?" Winry persisted.

"Press, I suspect. I counseled the soldiers not to speak to anyone just yet, but this sort of thing has a way of getting out. I'm doing my best to keep it quiet."

"Will Rosé-san have to talk to anyone?" Al said, voicing what was on everyone's mind.

"It's difficult to say, at this point, just what actions will be taken," Roy said, slowly. "But some of the people of Liore may be called on to testify, yes."

"She'll do it," Winry said firmly. "If it comes to that, Rosé will come forward, I know she will. She'll do it if it helps the people of Liore."

Roy nodded again. "Although I am hoping there's a way to do this without opening too many old wounds."

Ed gave the man a tight frown. Roy's answering look said that he understood the matter had been dropped—for now.

He managed to wait until they were getting ready for bed. "Oi. Just how long has this been going on?"

Roy sighed as he finished changing into his pajamas. "The first one spoke with me about a month and a half ago."

Ed scowled and yanked back the covers. "A month and a half? And you've never fucking mentioned it?"

"There's been nothing to mention." He slid the dresser drawer shut and stepped to the bed, meeting his partner's angry gaze evenly. "We're still in the process of putting out feelers to see how many might come forward. It's touchy," he repeated, "and it's going slowly."

"Month and a half." He folded his arms and stayed were he was as Roy sat down on the bed. "Six fucking weeks. And you never thought to _mention_ it? Never thought I might like to know?"

'I told you, there's nothing _to_ mention, not yet." The older man sighed, and then his expression softened, and Ed saw the mask slip away. "I didn't want to upset you," he admitted.

"I'm not a fucking _kid_ —"

"No. No, you're not. But you are someone who tends to hold onto guilt." He slid his legs under the covers, smoothing the sheet out where it was folded back over the comforter. "There was no point in telling you until we were ready to move forward." Another pause, and then he added, "I know you still feel responsible for Liore."

"Shit." The young man glared off to the side for a long moment, before jerking the covers back again and thumping down onto the mattress. "How long were you planning to wait before telling me?"

"Only until there was something to tell." Roy reached up and tugged at the elastic band still holding his lover's hair back, gently working it free. "Honest."

Ed sighed heavily as the other man ran fingers though his hair, smoothing out the crimp from the ponytail and lightly scratching his scalp. He wanted to stay mad, he really did; this wouldn't be the first time Roy had kept things from him. But that had been before, back when they'd been superior and subordinate instead of lovers. And as much as he hated to admit it, Roy was right. There wasn't anything he could do right now except mull over old wounds and past guilt. He sighed again and leaned into his lover's hand as it scratched over a particular spot behind his ear. The older man smiled at him, one of the small, gentle and completely open smiles he'd come to love over the past year. "What's up with you, anyway? You've been acting funny all evening."

"It's nothing."

"Roy. . . ."

"It's probably nothing, anyway." He sighed and stroked Ed's bangs back, absently twining the cowlick around his fingers. "My mother was acting a little strangely this afternoon, that's all."

"Strangely?"

"Like she does when she has something on her mind, something she's trying to keep to herself."

"Maybe it's gotta do with tomorrow."

"Maybe. I'm sure it's nothing."

Edward reached over and slid the eye patch away, lightly caressing the scar beneath it with automail fingers before tossing the stiffened fabric onto the bedside table. "How come I can't ever stay mad at you the way I used to?"

"Maybe you've finally accepted that I'm right."

"Arrogant bastard."


	7. Chapter 6

"Sorry for calling so early, but we're going to be leaving just after breakfast, I hope I didn't catch you eating. . . .You shouldn't bolt your food, you know that's not good for you! . . . How was your class trip to the museum? . . . Mm. . . ."

Hearing Roy talking to Elysia never failed to make Ed smile. The older man had confessed to him that he was never quite sure how to act around children, and yet he made a point of calling the Hughes' household every week or two to catch up with both Gracia and Elysia. Ed knew that his lover had started the phone calls from a sense of obligation, but listening to him gently tease the eight-year-old about one of the boys in her class made him think that there was something more behind it now.

He snickered at Roy's suggestion that if Elysia was getting that popular, maybe he should arrange for an armed escort— _Hughes would have agreed with that_ —and turned back to the conversation in front of him, which was on the omelets they were cooking. Winry thought the different ingredients should be measured to ensure proper flavor balance—whatever that meant—while Al was more of a mind to throw everything into the skillet until it looked right. Ed didn't care as long as the damn things got cooked, but he was having fun antagonizing them both.

The omelet argument was cut short, however, when Winry was called to the phone.

"Hi Elysia-chan! . . . Really? Oh, I can't wait to see that, you'll have to show me tomorrow. . . . Uh-huh . . . at eight, I hope that's not too late for you, you'll probably be in bed. . . . I hope not, it's a school night! . . . Really? Oh, lucky, we can stay up then! . . ."

"Elysia's school has Monday off," Roy explained as he pulled plates from the cabinet and set them on the counter. "One of her classmates invited her to see a show at the park, but of course she wants to make sure Winry-san can come—" He broke off and made a startled noise when Ed suddenly embraced him from behind.

"Nothing," the blond told his shoulder blades as he gave him a squeeze.

* * *

"It looks like a good turnout today."

"Mm. A lot of the soldiers brought their families, as I was hoping."

Yu nodded as they watched the crowd gather, trying to keep her expression even. She knew Roy was watching her, even if he didn't appear to be. Her son had always been remarkably perceptive, and she wasn't ready to explain what was on her mind. She couldn't just come out and say "Sweetie, did you murder someone?"

"By the way, where is Edward?" she said instead. She'd seen Alphonse a moment ago when he'd introduced a friend of his, a pretty young woman named Winry, but she had yet to see the elder boy.

"Ah. He's been . . . appropriated." Roy nodded over to the far side of the courtyard, a small smile on his face.

Yu followed his gaze and finally spotted the young man. He was just straightening after hitching a little girl of about five or six onto his back while a boy a few years older tugged on his sleeve.

"They're Allensworth's children," Roy was explaining. "We ran into them out front."

"I see." She smiled as Edward and the boy got into some brief roughhousing which ended with the boy in a headlock, while the girl cheered them on from her perch on the blond's back. Yu had the uncharitable thought that this was a much more appropriate place for her son's . . . she still hadn't found a good term.

"General Johansen! Hello! Good to see you again."

They both looked over at Alphonse's comment. "Johansen? Dad's old C.O.?"

Yu nodded. "He stopped by yesterday around noon. Didn't I mention it?"

He gave her a flat look. "No, Mother. You didn't."

"Must have slipped my mind."

"Eh?" Charles Johansen was giving the boy a polite but confused look. "I'm sorry, young man. You . . .?"

Alphonse grinned and rubbed the back of his head. "No, I'm sorry, of course you don't recognize me. The last time we met I was still in the armor."

"Fullmetal's kid brother! Of course. Alphonse, isn't it? You're . . . actually . . . a lot smaller than I thought. . . ."

The boy nodded, laughing. "Yeah, I know."

"I wouldn't exactly say you look like your brother, but I can tell you're related. He's around here somewhere, isn't he?"

Winry snorted. "Good luck spotting him, he's easy to lose in a crowd now that he doesn't wear his red coat."

"Winry, be nice. Nii-san is over there with Warrant Officer Allensworth and her family."

The large man laughed and tugged Alphonse's hood over his head. "Seems to me his old red coat didn't go very far. What happened, did you steal it while he was away?"

"Something like that," the boy laughed, pushing the hood back from his face. "This one was never actually his. The old one he left behind was pretty worn; Nii-san used to go through clothes pretty quickly, after all."

"I doubt Fullmetal's old coat would still fit you, Alphonse," Roy commented as he and Yu joined them. He smiled and gave the older man a salute. "General Johansen."

"Well well, look at you, _Brigadier General_ Mustang. Your father would be proud of you, Roy."

"Thank you, sir."

Yu smiled at the thought, despite her worry about what her son may or may not be guilty of. His father _would_ be proud; she was sure of that.

"Hey, lookit," Winry said, pointing. "I wonder what happened."

Whatever it was had Allensworth's son very agitated. He seemed to be apologizing to Edward, who was looking down at something in his hands. Alphonse and Winry started across the courtyard, and the rest of them followed out of curiosity.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—"

"—Oi." Edward bumped the top of the boy's head with the side of his fist. "S'not like you meant for them to fall out of my pocket."

"He still stepped on them," the little girl pointed out from behind Edward's arm.

"Susan, that's enough." Warrant Officer Allensworth put a hand on her daughter's head to quiet her. "Edward-san, we'll pay to replace them, of course—"

"Don't be silly, it was an accident."

"Still. . . ."

"Can't you fix them, Ed?" Winry asked, leaning over to look at what Yu now saw was a pair of glasses with a cracked lens. "Then it won't be an issue."

"Eh . . . with the prescription, y'know . . . probably better just to replace 'em. . . ."

She gave him a critical look. "What d'you mean, 'probably better to replace them'?"

"Well, y'know. . . ." The young man shifted and scratched the back of his head, "Might change the shape of the lens. . . ."

"Let me see them, Nii-san."

Edward handed the glasses to his brother and Alphonse studied the broken lens carefully. "The glass is cracked, but it doesn't look like any of it has been lost. It should transmute back together without any trouble."

The elder one shrugged and folded his arms. "Well, if you think so. You're welcome to try, I guess."

The younger blond gave him a small frown, then pressed his hands together in a prayer position around the cracked lens.

Blue light flared from between his palms with the distinctive crackle of alchemy and Yu jumped. Where was the array? She hadn't seen any marks on his hands or clothing.

No one else seemed startled, though. Edward simply took the glasses back and tried them on. "Yeah, I think you got it. Thanks, Al."

"That's sure a handy trick," Charles commented. "Must save a lot of money."

"I guess." Edward shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "S'not like alchemy can fix everything, though."

"Nii-san, you remember General Johansen, don't you?"

"Hm?" He blinked up at the large man, then back at his brother, and Alphonse sighed.

"Remember that one alchemist in the western area, with the plants and that machine . . .?" The boy waved his hands, as if that would explain everything.

"You mean the nut with those weird arrays and that," more hand waving, "thing?"

Yu raised an eyebrow at her old friend, but he only shrugged and chuckled. "Don't ask me. I didn't get it the first time around, either."

"You should have seen his reports," Roy commented.

"Oh yeah, now I remember. You're that old guy who was in charge at West headquarters."

" _Nii-san_!"

The retired general simply laughed and clapped Edward on the shoulder. "I guess everyone looks old when you're fourteen, eh? Good to see you again, though, boy. Looks like you've even grown some."

" _Even_? What do you mean, 'even'?"

"Nii-san—"

"Of course I've grown, you— _mphl_ —"

Yu prudently backed away while Edward flailed against his brother's restraining arms and Charles attempted to make amends. This just happened to put her close enough to hear when Winry hissed, "Am I going crazy, or did Ed just _avoid_ doing alchemy?"

"Mm," Roy confirmed under his breath. "He's been happy to do research, but I can only think of once, maybe twice over the past year that he's done any physical alchemy."

"You're kidding me!"

"Al has tried to talk to him about it, but. . . ."

The hushed conversation was cut short by the sound of a large transmutation from the far end of the courtyard.

"Hello everyone!" Princess Mei called from the top of the pedestal she'd just created. "Welcome to our little piece of Xing! Please take this opportunity to enjoy some of the fine food from our country. And then after you've eaten we'll give you a practical demonstration of _rentan jutsu_ —the alchemy of Xing! We hope you enjoy it!" With that she knelt and touched the transmutation circle at her feet, and melted the pedestal back into the ground.

After some applause, the crowd migrated over to the food tables. Yu caught site of a uniformed man standing off to one side and directing a rather cold look in their direction, but the man simply turned and joined the crowd around the food.

"Your relationship with tact never ceases to amaze me," she heard Roy remark.

". . . Shit." Edward actually sounded contrite.

"Lucky for you General Johansen has a sense of humor. He's also an old family friend."

"Oh yeah?"

"My father was under his command."

The retired general in question was already at the food, never one to pass up a meal.

Yu took up position near one of the tables to answer questions and help people with food selection. At her suggestion, the names of the dishes were given only in Xingian; she felt this would keep their Amestrian guests from prejudging the food based on the ingredients. Of course, nothing could help prejudging based on the appearance.

"What's . . . that?" Winry's hand hovered skeptically over one of the dishes.

"I dunno, but it's good," Edward assured her. "I've had it before."

"That doesn't tell me much, you used to eat anything that held still long enough."

"Hey, it's not my fault, I was eating for two." The Elrics grinned at each other and Winry rolled her eyes.

At least Yu wasn't the only one giving the trio a confused look, but the three blonds were oblivious to it all as they filled their plates and headed for one of the tables. She caught Roy's eye and raised her eyebrows at him, but he only shook his head, smirking slightly in amusement.

* * *

Roy smiled as he watched his mother teach Allensworth's two children how to properly use chopsticks and tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. He knew if he turned he'd find Marcus some distance down the tables on his blind side, and he didn't want to give the lieutenant the satisfaction of knowing he was making him uneasy.

Over the half year or so that he'd been at East City he'd constantly had the impression that his aide was _watching_ him. Not that the man would have done well in Intelligence; he was hardly subtle about it. Roy was well aware that Marcus disliked him, although he wasn't sure if it was personal or professional, and he got the feeling that the lieutenant was waiting for him to slip up somehow. Roy just wished he knew what the man intended to do with the information.

It put him in mind of an incident, if it could be called that, that had happened not long after his transfer to East.

Something had come up, something that generated a pile of paperwork that needed to be finished before the next day but didn't have the decency to be interesting. Roy had called Ed to inform him that he'd be at work until well into the evening, and that he'd get someone from the motor pool to drive him home.

Forty-five minutes later the door to his office had been unceremoniously kicked open and the short blond had stomped through. It had been so reminiscent of their encounters of years ago that Roy had almost expected a large suit of armor to follow.

"Oi, Colonel Bastard," Fullmetal had said, depositing a bag on top of the desk, heedless of the paperwork. "Didn't make sense to make food just to put it in the icebox, so here."

"The base does have a cafeteria," the older man had said, more than a little amused.

Ed had made a sour face. "I know, I've eaten there. I'm surprised half the base hasn't dropped from food poisoning."

Edward had brought him a cold pasta-and-chicken salad; not anything fancy, but leaps and bounds better than anything he could have gotten from the cafeteria. But that might have been partly because of who had brought it.

As Roy had cleared space on his desk and Ed had dished the food, Lieutenant Marcus had appeared in the doorway, hovering as if torn between going and staying. The brigadier general had looked up in time to catch the . . . _unpleasant_ look his aide was directing toward his lover's thankfully turned back.

"Something you need, Lieutenant?" Most of his staff had already gone home; the extra work wasn't anything they could help with.

". . . No, sir. I thought I might catch up on the filing."

"If you like."

Though he'd spoken to Roy, his attention had been on Edward, the distasteful look on his face poorly concealed.

Once they were done eating, instead of leaving, Edward had flopped down on one of the couches and proceeded to get immersed in a book he'd brought with him. His intent had been obvious and almost enough to make the older alchemist forget decorum and kiss him, an impulse he was glad he squashed when a moment later Marcus had passed by his door, pausing just long enough to flick a glare toward the sprawled blond.

The First Lieutenant had hovered near his office the rest of the evening, nominally filing but always near enough that he would hear or see if something were to happen. Not that anything would; Edward could be as prudish as an old school marm when there were _other people_ around, and Roy wasn't about to do anything that would make his position any shakier than it already was. For the most part, Roy had been able to ignore his aide and simply take comfort in his lover's presence, letting his gaze rest on the golden hair spread over the arm of the couch whenever the tedium of the paperwork had started to get to him.

Much to his surprise and annoyance, however, Marcus had out waited him and the paperwork.

"All right, Fullmetal. I'm done here. Ed?" No response from the blond. "Ed-ward. . . ." Nothing. Feeling punchy after the long evening, Roy had wadded up a piece of scrap paper and tossed it. The missile had sailed by without effect. He'd tried again, and that time the crumpled ball had bounced off the book that was holding the young man captive. Edward had jumped and twisted around to blink at him, his glasses still perched on the top of his head. "Time to go home, Love."

There had been the sound of a folder being dropped in the outer office, which they both ignored.

"Finally," Edward had said, sitting up and stretching. "Were you always this slow with your work? Lazy-ass bastard."

Marcus had been stony-faced and overly formal and proper as they left. He'd acted as if the younger man hadn't been there at all, making a point of looking through the blond as he'd coolly addressed his commanding officer.

"What the fuck's up _his_ ass?" Edward had griped in the car. His grip on the steering wheel had been so tight that Roy had been afraid he might do damage. "Acting like I'm some kind of—of—"

_Hooker_ , Roy had finished mentally. That had been exactly how the lieutenant had been acting. He'd hoped Ed had missed it, but the young man wasn't as oblivious as he used to be.

"Thank you for coming by, Love," the older man had said instead. "That made the evening a lot easier."

"Yeah, well. Didn't make sense to just put the food away for leftovers, that's all."

Despite the dismissive words, Roy hadn't missed the way his lover's hands had relaxed.

Afterwards, Roy had expected his aide's attitude toward him to worsen, but it had stayed mostly the same, cool indifference that bordered on contempt. The poor attitude and the veiled hostility toward Edward was never enough for Roy to cal him on it, but he was noticing now the way the lieutenant seemed to be constantly watching; he just wished he could figure out _why_.

Like today, for example. Lieutenant Marcus cared little for alchemy had been decidedly unenthusiastic about the arrival of the Xingian embassy. Yet here he was at the demonstration. Given the way he'd been glaring at them earlier, Roy doubted it was because of the food. And now the annoying git had positioned himself down on Roy's blind side. He hated that he had such a vulnerability; there were times when having Ed's sold, dependable presence on his left was more of a comfort than he would let on.

For now, there was nothing he could do but stay alert and not let his aide get to him.

* * *

Yu ate her own food around helping those around her with the utensils, although she had to admit she had less of a job than some of her countrymen. Roy, of course, had learned as a child; eating with chopsticks had been something of a treat in their household. Edward's technique was inelegant but effective. It wouldn't win him any prizes, but it got the food to his mouth, and he even managed to keep his gloves relatively clean, although why he insisted on eating with them on she still didn't know. Alphonse and Winry seemed to be picking it up well enough on their own, after a discussion on physics and applied forces and the properties of levers. This left her with Warrant Officer Allensworth and her family. They weren't having the easiest time, but they were good natured about it, and the children, at least, were having fun. A quick scan of the courtyard had told her that this wasn't the case with everyone, and a few had resorted to getting out the Amestrian utensils they had kept on reserve.

She caught sight of the man she'd seen earlier. He was again staring at her son and his companion, and she couldn't quite place the expression on his face. It wasn't friendly, that much was certain. He caught her watching and looked away, and after a moment she did the same.

Beside her Winry had paused in her eating. She seemed to be contemplating the chopsticks in her hand, and then the girl turned a speculative look toward Edward.

The young man shook his head. "Can't; tried it."

"No, the metal wouldn't have nearly enough give, would it," she mused, looking back to her utensils and testing them against a piece of chicken.

"I ended up breaking the pair I used."

Yu considered asking, but decided to see where their conversation went instead.

"I can see why, the grip on a pencil or pen can be varied, but these. . . ." Winry picked up the chicken piece and held it above her plate, only to have the sticks twist and lose the food. "Oops."

"The fine control wasn't enough, either," Edward continued. "But then, this was when I was twelve. . . ."

"Well, of course you didn't have the fine control, idiot—woops! Damn it, I was doing so well—" She chased the piece and finally snagged it, quickly shoving it into her mouth before it could fall again.

"And you complain about _my_ table manners."

She kicked him under the table, and he kicked back, and Yu scooted over to stay out of range.

The conversation drifted back to levers and fulcrums, the three blonds once again speaking with the rapid ease that only comes from years of familiarity.

It wasn't long before they were interrupted by Mei recreating her podium.

The princess went through the typical pleasantries about hoping everyone was enjoying the meal and then started on a basic explanation of Xing's brand of alchemy. Yu mostly tuned her out in favor of scanning the crowd again. Mei had asked for her help in gauging who of the Amestrian alchemists might be receptive to working together; the older woman just wished she knew why. The princess was scheming something, that went without saying, but what she hoped to gain from Amestrian alchemy Yu was still trying to puzzle out.

Her eyes fell again on the soldier she'd noticed before. She was hardly surprised to see that he was paying about as much attention to the demonstration as she was; he was, again, focused on Roy and Edward. She made a mental note to inquire about him later.

Up in the clear area of the courtyard, Mei was making a production of throwing her knives and transmuting at a distance. The girl was showing off, but Yu could hardly fault her. Princess Mei _was_ among the best practitioners in Xing.

"She's not bad," Edward mused, brining Yu's attention back to her table. "Fighter, too, I bet,"

"You think so?" Winry said. "I mean, she's good with those knives, yeah. . . ."

"No, definitely, look at the way she moves," Alphonse commented. "She's definitely been trained in something physical, and judging by the amount of control in her movements, I'd say it's probably martial arts."

"You can tell that from back here?" Warrant Officer Allensworth's husband muttered.

"Very perceptive," Yu agreed. "Princess Mei has been trained in martial arts since she was a young child. But many people are misled by her size and underestimate her."

Winry gave Edward a wicked grin. "We wouldn't know _anything_ about _that_ sort of thing, _would_ we."

Roy hid a smile behind his hand while the boy sputtered and turned red. "You—fu—wh—you—" He raised his hand but aborted what was probably going to be a rude gesture after a quick glance at the two children sitting nearby, and instead used his chopsticks to fling a piece of food across the table as his friend tried to dodge and smother her giggles behind her hand at the same time.

"Don't you _dare_ get any ideas, you two," Allensworth muttered to her son and daughter, who were, indeed, looking like they were starting to get ideas.

Mei was speaking again, explaining how the lines of energy that allowed one to transmute at a distance could also be found in the human body, and the three blonds suddenly snapped their attention back to the front. They listened avidly as Mei explained how this _qi_ could be used not only to heal but to find hidden injuries and even, if the practitioner knew what she was doing, to cause pain or debilitate an opponent.

"That's amazing," Winry said as she clapped along with everyone else.

"Told'ya you'd want to hear this," Edward commented, his own applause muffled by his gloves. "Hey, I wonder if there're any books on this that've been translated into Amestrian."

"You could call Scheska—you know, use the phone? That thing you absolutely hate using?"

Edward cringed. "The last time I tried calling Scheska her phone was buried and she nearly caused an avalanche trying to get to it."

"Eheh . . . right. I'll stop by her place when I get to Central."

Now that the demonstration was over people were returning to eating and talking, many asking questions of the Xingian hosts. Mei was walking down the tables, answering questions and giving small demonstrations. Susan, apparently bored now that there wasn't something to watch, scooted over into Edward's lap and picked up his hand. Her mother started to reprimand her, but the young man waved his free hand and insisted he didn't mind. The girl gave her mother a smug look and started to play with the hand, bending the wrist and fingers back and forth.

"If this—this ' _qi'_ —can be used to heal wounds and stuff," Winry was saying, "then could it also be, I dunno, realigned or something?"

"'Realigned'?" Yu asked, startled from her observations. "How do you mean?"

"To get the body to accept something it wouldn't normally have to. Amestrian alchemy doesn't do that when it's used for medical purposes—does it? How does that work with the equivalent exchange, anyway?"

"From the little Marcoh told me," Roy spoke up, "Amestrian medical alchemy mostly works by accelerating the body's natural ability to heal. It can make the patient ravenous and weak for a time while the body replenishes the energy that was used."

"That sounds risky to me. If you put too much stress on the body, too quickly. . . ."

"It is. He said in many cases he would refuse if it wasn't a life or death situation, except when he—hm. It is as risky as it sounds, yes."

There was a pause where _something_ hung unsaid between the four of them, so heavy it was almost tangible. "It's—it's not just the stress, though," Winry continued after a moment. "Sometimes the body just doesn't heal itself right. For example, if the skin on your fingers is badly damaged, like from a burn, you can't just bandage the hand as a whole because the skin between your fingers might grow together."

Roy nodded and touched his eye patch. "Like the way the scar formed over my eye socket."

"Right. In that case it wasn't detrimental, but you can imagine how it could be. It's something we have to watch with automail. We have to make sure scar tissue doesn't form where it shouldn't."

"Automail?" Yu asked, trying to distract herself from imagining what the left side of her son's face must look like under the patch.

"Winry's an automail mechanic," Alphonse explained, his pride in his friend evident on his face.

"But if the body can be . . . helped along, somehow, both to heal and to accept the automail, it might significantly reduce the chance of rejection and speed up the recovery time. Could it . . .?" She turned to Yu with a hopeful expression, but the older woman had to shake her head and smile in apology.

"You have to understand, there was a reason I came to _Amestris_ to study alchemy. You would do much better to talk to Mei or one of the others."

"Nii-san?" Alphonse ventured as Winry nodded and set to finishing her meal.

The uncharacteristically quiet young man looked up at his brother, not paying any attention to the little girl in his lap, who was now twisting his wrist in what had to be an uncomfortable manner. "Hm? Oh . . . I was just wondering if this 'qi' stuff had, I dunno, a signature or something. If it was different in different animals."

"Ooh . . . if it was, it might be possible to isolate. . . ."

". . . Separate. . . ."

". . . Deconstruct, and then. . . ."

". . . If the physical body could be made to follow the correct _qi_. . . ."

". . . Then maybe. . . ."

The boys stared at each other for an intense moment, then as one turned to her.

"Yu-san—!"

"—Who would—"

"—Who could we ask—"

"—Might know—"

More than a little dumbfounded, Yu pointed them to a man close to her own age who was perhaps not the most skilled of their group, but who was known for his knowledge and experience. Edward tossed her a "Thanks!" as he set Susan on the bench and jumped up. Alphonse was more polite but just as rushed.

"What was that about?" she asked as she watched them accost her countryman.

Roy met her eyes but shook his head. "I could explain—but not right now."

Winry soon finished, then went to go intercept Mei.

"Do those three ever slow down?" Warrant Officer Allensworth commented. "I thought Edward-san and Alphonse-kun were bad enough on their own."

Roy chuckled. "I suspect that, as children, Winry-san was the only one who could keep up with Ed and Al, and they were the only ones who could keep up with her. If they do have slow times, I haven't seen it."

"She's not an alchemist, though, is she?" Yu asked.

"No; the Rockbells have all been mechanics and surgeons. She understands alchemy, though, from her association with the Elrics." He excused himself then, standing to make the rounds of the tables to see what his people thought of the demonstration.

When her son was out of earshot, Yu leaned closer to Allensworth and asked, "Who is that soldier there, sitting by himself?"

The woman's eyes flicked in the direction she had indicated. "First Lieutenant Marcus, Brigadier General Mustang's aide." Then, in a much lower voice, added, "So you caught him glaring over here, too, huh?"

"He doesn't seem to be . . . overly fond of Roy."

She snorted quietly, then was momentarily distracted by having to stop her son from trying to throw a piece of food with his chopsticks. "Look, I don't want to say much here," she continued, "but some of us think they assigned the Brigadier General the worst possible aide. I'm not saying the lieutenant is a bad soldier, just. . . ."

"Incompatible?" her husband offered.

"That's one way to put it."

Yu nodded, glancing over to where the lieutenant sat, occasionally casting withering looks to where Edward and his brother were talking animatedly with the elder pharmacist. "I see."

"See what now?"

Yu looked up and smiled as her old friend walked up behind them. "Nothing much, Charles."

"Oh, General Johansen!" The warrant officer hastily snapped a salute.

"Bah. I'm retired now, no need for formalities."

Yu excused herself and stood, walking a little ways away with her friend. "It seems not all of Roy's subordinates are as fond of him as the ones you spoke of."

"Oh, you mean that lieutenant who kept giving him dirty looks. That's Marcus, isn't it? I looked into the people who'd been assigned here a bit."

"Did you? What do you know of him?"

The retired general shrugged. "Not much. Follows orders and does his job, but there wasn't much in his record to distinguish him. Kind of lack-luster, to be honest. Probably why he's still a lieutenant."

"Hmm."

"Isn't that the young woman who was with the Elric boys? She seems to be having a bit of trouble with something."

Yu looked where he indicated and suppressed a grimace. Winry seemed to be trying to explain something, but the three she was speaking with—Mei and two others—were giving her very blank looks. "Ah, how negligent of me, I should have realized she would need some help. Excuse me a moment."

She approached them just as the young mechanic was saying ". . . The surgery to attach the ports . . . the connections? Where the automail attaches? Um. . . ."

Yu put a hand on her arm. "Winry-san—I'm sorry, I should have mentioned this: Xing doesn't have automail, so I'm afraid there's not much of a frame of reference."

Blue eyes blinked at her. "No . . . no automail? Really?"

"No, I'm afraid not." She turned and explained the concept of the metal prosthetic limbs as best she could in Xingian—which wasn't very well. Automail had just been coming into its own when she had last lived in Amestris, so her own understanding was quite limited.

Mei looked intrigued, but one of the others hid a smile behind her hand. "That sound . . . heavy." She went on to say something more in Xingian, which Yu chose to translate as "They sound . . . awkward and clunky."

"Awkw. . . ." Winry's mouth fell open, and then snapped shut in what looked like indignation. " _Clunky_." She narrowed her eyes at them, then spun. "Ed! _Edward_! C'mere!"

The boy took one look at her and turned tail, only to snap back when Alphonse snagged his ponytail. The younger boy dragged his grumbling, cursing brother over by the hair and shoved him toward Winry.

"—Ow, ow—fucking—not a exhibit, dammit—"

"Thanks, Al."

"—Traitor—"

"No problem."

The young woman grabbed his wrist and dug her fingers under the cuff of his glove, then whipped the fabric off with a flourish.

Yu gasped along with the others at the sight of the metal hand. Her first thought was, _well, that explains the gloves_.

"Bet you didn't realize it was a prosthetic, did ya?" Winry pushed Edward's sleeve back and held up the steel arm for them to see. "Rockbell Automail specializes in naturalistic replacement limbs!"

Edward sighed in resignation and rubbed his forehead.

Yu couldn't quite pull her thoughts together to translate the excited chatter. Automail certainly had come a long way in twenty some-odd years.

"This . . . the whole arm is this way?" Mei asked over the other two.

"Yeah, the port's in his shoulder here—"

"Not taking my shirt off."

"Don't be such a—"

" _Not_. Taking it. _Off_."

The boy looked like he might bite her fingers if she tried. There was a momentary silent battle of wills, gold against blue, and then Winry made an exasperated sound and jerked him forward by the arm.

" _Fine_. Anyway, we always try to keep as much of the original limb as possible, but Ed lost his arm to the shoulder. The port is here." She pulled the fabric taut, and Yu saw the outline of what looked like metal plates.

"This stays all the time?" someone asked. They were beginning to draw a crowd, as several Xingians and a few Amestrains came over to see what was going on.

"The arm is detachable, of course, and the outer plates of the port can be removed, but it's best to only do that when it's required for maintenance. Reattachment is painful and there's always the chance of nerve damage if it's done improperly."

Out of the corner of her eye Yu saw Edward suppress a wince.

"They want to know how it can move," she said, translating the question she'd been hearing the most.

"Oh! Well, sensors in the port pick up the electromagnetic impulses that travel along the nerves and send signals through the wires in the arm. . . ."

"Um. . . ."

"For the love of— _simple_ explanation!" Ed snapped. "The arm's gone, but my body is still sending signals to is as if it was there. The automail picks up those signals and turns them into movement."

"That's the gist of it, yeah," Winry agreed. "But there's also feedback—pressure sensors, kinetic sensors, proprioception—"

"In other words, I know when it's touching something, I know when it's moving, and I know where it is."

"—Right. That's what I said."

"Like hell. Lay off the techy terms already, automail geek."

"Alchemy geek." She glared and stuck out her tongue, both of which he returned. Alphonse rolled his eyes.

"As I was saying before," the mechanic continued, "the surgery is difficult and automail patients usually take years to fully recover, and there's always the danger that the body will reject the ports. But what you were saying in the demonstration, about using the body's, um, _qi_ to heal? Could it also be used to help automail patients? Maybe help them accept the ports, or help their bodies get used to moving the automail?"

"It . . . might be possible," Mei said slowly. She reached up a hand and lightly touched the young man's shoulder. Edward looked like he would have stepped back if Winry hadn't had his arm hostage. "I am . . . not familiar with the ways such things are attached. But it might be possible to . . . I'm not sure I know quite the right word for it. But all things have _qi_ , not just the land or people—"

"You mean you could make the body and the automail work together?" Edward interrupted again. "Like, harmonize their energies or something?"

"Possibly."

"Could you make automail not hurt?" Alphonse spoke up.

"Al. . . ."

"Oh—does this hurt you?" Mei asked.

"Some . . . times. . . ." the young man admitted, scratching the back of his head with his free hand.

"I think that would be very possible. . . ."

The conversation went on between the four of them, with occasional comments from the others.

"‹So they actually can interact civilly. I had my doubts.›"

Yu looked over at her niece's quiet comment, not having noticed the younger woman approach. "‹So did I—but it looks as though they're doing fine, for now,›" she said in the same low tone. "‹So long as nothing triggers their tempers.›" What she didn't say was that Mei's effort to friendly made her suspicious. The princess wasn't an unkind person, but under normal circumstances Yu didn't think she'd be so quick to forget her previous encounter with Edward.

Li Xue returned the smile, but she looked troubled.

"‹Is something wrong?›"

"‹No, not really," the younger woman answered. "There is something I would like to talk about with you, but it can wait.›"


	8. Chapter 7

Evening found Yu in her son's living room, studying some photographs on the bookshelf that she hadn't had time to notice before.

"That was as we were moving in," Roy said as he nodded to one and handed her a drink. "Hawkeye took it—Riza."

The photograph was of the three of them—Roy, Edward, and Alphonse—on the porch, with Roy leaning against Edward and Edward looking like he was only barely tolerating it. She had to admit it was a cute picture, even though it was odd to see them so casually intimate. "Your teacher's daughter? She was under your command for a while, wasn't she?"

"Mm. She requested the placement after Ishval. The Brass don't trust me enough right now to grant me the staff I want or I'd request her back. She was a good aide."

So many ways she could follow that, so many questions she wanted answered, but she chose the safest one. "Are you unhappy with the staff you have now?"

Roy chuckled as he sad down on the couch, setting his own drink on the coffee table and raising his eyebrow at her. "Come now, Mother, you must have noticed Lieutenant Marcus's attitude this afternoon. He's never subtle."

She smiled in acknowledgement. "I had noticed someone giving you dark looks, yes." She sat down next to her son and bent to scratch the cat that was weaving around her feet. "Or perhaps he was glaring at Edward; it was hard to tell."

"Either, or most likely, both of us." He sighed and unbuttoned his uniform jacket. "Marcus ignores Ed for the most part, except for times like these."

"He doesn't . . . approve?"

Roy made a non-committal noise as he shrugged out of his jacket. He folded the garment over the arm of the couch and gave her a small, ironic smile. "I assume that's a roundabout way of asking if my relationship with Edward has caused any trouble for me."

Now it was Yu's turn for a non-committal noise, which she covered with her drink.

"The general atmosphere isn't exactly accepting of such things, but my rank keeps most people from making comments to my face, and Edward's temper keeps most people from his. Aside from Marcus—who I suspect has other reasons to dislike me—most people either tolerate us, ignore us, or keep quiet about it." He took a sip of his drink, then chuckled to himself. "There was one incident not long after we moved here, where Edward happened to overhear a private suggesting that perhaps Ed was my lover now because I had taken _advantage_ of him while he was under my command."

"Oh? I'm guessing that this did not end well."

"Oh, no, I happen to think Edward showed considerable restraint. He merely put his fist through the wall next to the private's head and asked if he thought that _he_ , the _Fullmetal Alchemist_ , would have let himself be taken advantage of _by anyone_. I had to add the wall to the list of repairs needed at headquarters, but otherwise, there was no harm done."

Yu found herself chuckling along with her son, despite her unease with the implication of people talking behind his back, as well as with the intimate term he had so casually tossed out.

"Not everyone has been accepting of our relationship, but there haven't been any problems worth noting. Aside from a few stares, it's a non-issue."

"I'm glad," she said, honestly. "I . . . have to admit I had been worried."

He smiled, an odd, almost ironic look on his face. "I've dealt with worse. Much worse. He and I both have."

Yu nodded, and toyed with her glass while she watched the cat jump to the back of the couch and walk its length. There didn't seem to be anywhere else to go on that subject, and she still wasn't ready to bring up what was really bothering her. "What was it that got those two so excited after the demonstration, anyway? Oh, I hope they were able to have some questions answered before Winry-san interrupted them."

"Medical alchemy is another area of interest for him, so I doubt Ed truly minded. But to answer your question. . . ." Roy set his drink down and pulled a photo album from the shelf beneath the coffee table. He paged through the front, then passed the album over, his face pensive.

Most prominently on the page was a photograph of a much younger Edward sitting at the head of a table covered in food; his twelfth birthday, judging by the candles on the cake. In the background was what looked like a very pregnant Gracia Hughes, and to one side of the table was a little girl with pigtails, and to the other—

—Was a huge, spiked suit of armor, just as Charles had described.

Roy pointed to a picture of the little girl eating a piece of cake. "Nina Tucker. Edward and Alphonse stayed with her father while they studied for the state alchemy exam." He paused. "I had thought, given their ages, that it would be best to place them with a family, and Tucker's research was . . . along similar lines as their ultimate goal." He paused again, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "None of us realized just how . . . _unstable_ Tucker was . . . until it was too late." He traced the edge of the picture thoughtfully. "A few months after these pictures were taken, Tucker used his daughter in an experiment. He turned her into a chimera."

"A— _oh_ . . . oh, no." Yu covered her mouth, staring down at the cheerful little girl with frosting dotting her cheeks. "What happened to—to her?"

"When the military found out and arrested Tucker, they were going to take the chimera into custody, but it . . . she . . . escaped, and ran. The boys found her later that night. She'd been killed."

"Oh. . . ."

"They both took it pretty hard, but Edward, I think, even more than Al. They had started to think of her as a little sister, and Ed. . . ." He smiled, fond amusement with the bitterness. "Ed thinks he's responsible for everybody, but especially for younger siblings. He takes his role of big brother very seriously."

She let her hand fall to her lap, and sat back. "They're looking for a way to reverse it. The chimera process."

Roy nodded. "Tucker wasn't the first to think of using humans, and he certainly won't be the last." He sighed. "The problem is, as hard as it is to make a successful chimera, it seems to be ten times as hard to successfully _unmake_ one, and so far their research has been purely theoretical. Neither of them likes the thought of experimenting on animals."

And now Edward was avoiding alchemy altogether, it seemed. "But theory can only take them so far. What will they do when they get to that point?"

"They will figure that out when they get there, I'm sure. That is their usual method of working."

Yu shook her head. "Don't they plan ahead for— _ah_!" Something had attacked her hair—something with claws.

"Magpie, _off_." Roy swatted at the cat and it went darting off the couch and into the kitchen. "Sorry Mom, I think he was after your hair stick."

"I didn't know I was wearing a cat toy." She patted at her hair, then removed the stick and set to rewinding it.

"We're finding that everything is a potential cat toy," her son muttered, glaring after the feline. "I have to be careful how I set my uniform jacket down or he'll attack the braid."

She chuckled as she finished pinning back her hair, then looked down at the photo album again. On the facing page, underneath a picture of Edward opening presents, was a photograph of an exhausted Gracia cradling an infant, with Edward leaning over them and grinning. The golden-haired boy looked completely amazed by the newborn, as open and innocent as any other boy that age. Yu couldn't help but wonder what had compelled such a child to tie himself to the military.

"Gracia gave us these," Roy informed her. "Maes had, as usual, made several copies. I think he suspected Ed and Al would want them eventually."

She turned the page, and there was a picture of the man in question. Maes was supporting a toddler on one arm, and had the other hooked around Edward's neck. The boy was pulling at the arm in apparent irritation, but was grinning all the same. Crouched down next to them was the suit of armor from the other picture. It must have been a trick of the flash, but Yu could swear the eye holes in the helm were glowing.

"He and Gracia were the only ones who could get away with being any sort of parent to those two," Roy continued. "Ed never tolerated anything he saw as coddling or patronizing, but . . . he put up with Maes."

"I haven't told you yet how sorry I was to hear about what happened to Maes." Yu looked over and squeezed her son's hand. "I know how close you were."

He looked down at the photograph with a sad, distant smile. "I still miss him. I don't think I'll ever stop missing him."

"In your letter you said there weren't many leads on who had—who had done it. Has that changed, or . . .?"

He sighed. "The military did nothing more than a cursory investigation, and then swept the entire thing under the rug. Officially, the case is 'unsolved.' Unofficially, I have my suspicions."

And if the military continued to do nothing, would her son have taken matters into his own hands? She had a feeling she already knew the answer to that question.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming and angry voices coming up the walk. The shouting resolved itself into words as the door was opened.

"—Who are _you_ to make such judgments, anyway??" Winry shoved passed Al and stomped toward the hall. "You and those tight leather pants, honestly—"

"— _I_ never went around showing more skin than—than—" Edward spat back.

Winry spun and shoved a finger into his face. "Than _what_? Huh?? Go on, _finish_ that sentence, I _dare_ you!"

"You're missing the fucking point!"

"No, _you're_ missing the point!" She spun again and marched into the downstairs bedroom. "It's none of your goddamn business what I wear—"

"You fucking make it _everyone's_ goddamn business with those— _wagh_!" He stopped short of the doorway and cringed back, and something rebounded off his arm with a sharp _clang_.

"You better not have dented that arm!"

"You threw the fucking thing!"

"I was aiming for your head!"

_Slam_.

Edward sputtered at the door for a moment. "You— _fine_! Just wait until you get to Central and find out the hard way!" Fuming, he stomped through the living room and slammed the door of the study.

Several moments of silence passed before Roy turned to where Alphonse still stood by the front door. "Dare I even ask?"

The boy rubbed the back of his head, looking helplessly after his brother and then his friend. "Nii-san . . . made a—a comment, about . . . Winry's . . . clothes."

Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Yu pressed her lips together to stifle an inappropriate urge to laugh.

"I'm sorry. . . ."

"It's hardly your fault, Al."

"Still. . . ."

Yu closed the photo album and slid it back under the coffee table. "I should probably go."

"Mom—"

"No, it's late, and Li Xue had wanted to talk to me about something. I really should be getting back."

"All right. I'll drive you."

"Have a good evening, Yu-san," Alphonse said as she passed him. "Sorry about, um," he pointed toward the closed doors, "this."

She smiled and patted his shoulder on her way by.

Roy was uncharacteristically quiet as he started the car. To anyone else he might not seem overtly upset, but she _was_ his mother. She smiled to herself, then offered, "It's not as if I didn't already know he had a temper."

He glanced at her, then sighed. "Sometimes I think 'temper' is an understatement."

"Oh/"

"Volatile, explosive. . . ." He put the car into gear and then backed out of the driveway. "Overreactive, excessive—you get the idea."

"I'm starting to, yes."

He pulled out into the street, then paused again before starting off. "Mother . . . I don't want you thinking he's nothing more than a foul-mouthed kid with a bad temper."

This time she did laugh. "Sweetie, I hardly think you would be so fond of him if he were." She realized the truth of the statement even as she spoke it.

He smiled and nodded. "True enough."

Still, she couldn't place the odd sort of relief she'd felt at seeing the young man act this way. Almost as if she had _wanted_ him to do something childish.

* * *

Roy glanced at the closed doors of the guest room and the study, then turned toward the kitchen, where he could hear Al talking to Magpie.

"I'm getting your food, don't worry, I'll have it down in a minute," he was saying to the meowing cat winding around his legs. "If you'd eat it cold, it wouldn't take this long."

"Neither of them has come out yet?"

"Oh, welcome back—no, neither of them has. I didn't want Maggie to wait for his food, it's already late—yes, it's coming, it's coming," he assured the cat, who had reared up and put paws on his leg. "I'm sorry your mother had to see that. I was hoping they'd wind down before we got home, but it kept getting worse and worse—"

"It's not your fault, Al." Roy leaned against the table as he watched the young man spoon the warmed food onto a saucer and set it on the floor. "You don't always have to apologize for your brother."

Al smiled and scratched Magpie's back. "It's a habit, I guess."

"So what was that about?"

"Well. . . ." He glanced toward the living room and the closed doors beyond, and then continued in a low voice. "I think Nii-san was irritated with Winry about earlier—I don't think she realizes how self-conscious he is about it, because he isn't so much when we're in Resembool—maybe I shouldn't have pulled him over like that, but I wanted to hear what Princess Mei thought—" He broke off and sighed. "Anyway, the dinner with Olivia-san went fine, but then afterwards, Nii-san said that—that—" he glanced to the living room again, cheeks pink, then mumbled, "he said that Winry's clothes may—may give some people the wrong idea."

Roy bowed his head and pressed his lips together, not sure if he wanted to laugh or sigh. "I'm guessing he didn't word it quite so politely."

"No. And—well, you saw how well Winry took it."

"Mm."

"To be honest—and don't tell either of them this—I'm—I'm kinda _glad_ he said something. Winry doesn't think about how she looks to other people. She's never _had_ to, in Resembool, and nobody in Rush Valley cares what you look like if you don't have metal. But this is _Central_. Winry's only ever seen the nicer areas. There were parts of Central that made _me_ nervous, and that was when I was in the armor."

Roy nodded, chuckling. "I know what you mean." He leaned back for a moment and looked up at the ceiling, considering, then looked back down at the young alchemist and sighed. "Do you think Winry-san has calmed down enough to accept some third-party advice?"

"Maybe." Alphonse brightened, looking so hopeful Roy wanted to cringe. "She doesn't really stay mad long, not even with Nii-san—he just tends to get her mad over and over again. She might listen. . . ."

"I'll tread carefully," he assured the boy.

As if he did anything else around the youngest Rockbell. Even after all these months, he still felt she had every right to crucify him. It wasn't so bad when there were other people around, but he usually dreaded having to spend time alone with her. Still, he measured the steps to the guest room, steadied himself, and knocked on the door. "Winry-san? May I come in?" After receiving an affirmative he opened the door, shutting it quietly behind him. "About earlier. . . ."

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to yell in front of your mom like that," she interrupted, looking up from the clothes she had spread out on the bed. "It's just that Ed makes me so _mad_ sometimes—"

"No, that's not it—believe me, I can sympathize. But Al told me what the argument was about—"

"He said—he all but came out and _said_ —that—that my clothes make me look like—like some kind of _streetwalker_!" She brandished the skirt and blouse she had fisted in her hands. "These clothes! Do these look like a hooker's clothes to you? It's not like they're _indecent_. Huh?"

"Um. . . ." _There is no safe way to answer that_. "Winry-san—Ed's manner of delivery aside, I'm sure he's only concerned for your wellbeing. Central is not always a safe place."

"I can take care of myself." Winry threw the clothes into her bag and set her hands on her hips, glaring at the rest of her wardrobe.

"I don't doubt that." Silently, Roy thanked his years of practice in dealing with women in all kinds of moods. "But Edward's only thinking of his 'sister' heading off to a potentially dangerous place."

She scoffed and waved a hand, as if shooing a fly. "Ed's a boy; what does he know?"

He couldn't help but smile. "That's actually my point. Ed _can't_ accurately gauge the risks a young woman would face. But if I may make a suggestion?"

She gave him a look that said, as if _you_ would do any better? Roy inclined his head in silent agreement, then said, "Captain Hawkeye has been stationed in Central for several years now, and I believe she knows the city pretty well. . . ." He trailed off, allowing himself a small smile at the contemplative look that replaced the irritation.

"Yeah, okay. It would be nice to talk to Riza-san again, I haven't seen her since last year. . . ."

He nodded again, thinking he might want to send Hawkeye a note, and turned to leave.

"Oh, hey, wait a sec—what's the deal with Ed not doing alchemy? You said Al talked to him about it. . . ."

Roy sighed, and turned back. "I said he tried. You know how evasive Ed can be when he doesn't want to talk about something."

The young woman sighed and pushed her hair back. "Great. Of course it's one of _those_ issues. Everything with Ed is one of _those_ issues."

"The one time I tried to bring it up, he gave me some line I think their sensei used about doing things with your own hands, and then something about having gotten used to doing without, and then he changed the subject completely."

"Those wouldn't explain why he wouldn't fix his glasses."

"No. And, like I said, he's perfectly happy doing research."

"So it's not alchemy as a whole he has an aversion to, just the physical transmutations." She paused, and let her hand slide down to her mouth. "But . . . he _can_ , right?" she said slowly, blue eyes wide. "He still _can_ do alchemy . . . can't he?"

"Yes . . . as far as I'm aware. . . ."

Winry dropped her hand and folded her arms. "It's probably stupid, but I was just thinking—the reason he can do alchemy without circles is because of this Gateway thing he's talked about, right? It's like, an ability it gave him. What if—what if it could take it away, too?"

Roy had never thought in those terms. Was alchemy really such a fragile thing that could be given and taken by some unfeeling entity? However; "—No. No, he definitely has, I watched him fix the fence out back for the neighbor."

"There's that, then. It's not a 'can't,' it's a 'won't.'" She sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Which means it really is one of those big emotional _issues_ of his that he never talks about. That idiot. . . ."

Roy sighed in agreement.

"If I was going to be in East longer I'd try to beat it out of him. As it is. . . . You'll keep an eye on him, won't you?" She dropped her hand and looked up at him, with those blue eyes that were so much like her mother's. "I know I don't need to ask, but you will, right?"

He nodded. "I will. I doubt Al will let it rest, either. I'll keep you informed if he lets anything slip."

She smiled, a familiar, genuinely accepting smile that he still didn't think he deserved. "Thanks, Roy-san."

* * *

Later that evening, Roy was sitting up in bed reading when he finally heard the study door creak open, and then an alternating _thump_ and scuff on the stairs. Edward was trying to be quiet, but there was only so much he could do to muffle the fall of his metal foot. A moment later he crept into the bedroom and, after he saw Roy was awake, flopped face down on the bed.

"You and tact, Love," the older man commented, not looking up from his book.

Ed groaned and kicked at the mattress.

"By the way, I suggested to Winry-san that she talk with Hawkeye."

The blond tipped his head to the side and look up at him. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you think every problem can be solved by bashing your head against it." That wasn't entirely fair, Edward could be quite devious and sneaky when he wanted to be, but he usually only resorted to that after his brute force techniques failed.

The young man squirmed further up the bed, then tipped his head again. "I'm sure making a bang-up impression, aren't I. Why aren't you mad at me? I'd be mad at me. I _am_ mad at me."

Roy didn't have to ask what he was referring to. He set the book on his bedside table and smiled down at his lover, brushing the long bangs out of his face. "Maybe because I learned a long time ago that you're simply going to be who you're going to be, the rest of the world—including my mother—be damned." He couldn't say he was pleased, but getting mad at Edward for simply being Edward would be pointless.

Ed groaned and buried his face against the older man's hip. "I'm not exactly earning any gold stars here, though, am I?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I think she was more amused than anything else."

"So glad I could provide some amusement." He sighed, then finally pushed himself onto his back and looked up at the older man. "Al wants to take Winry shopping tomorrow, by the way, so we'll have the afternoon and probably some of the morning to ourselves."

"Just Al? I would have thought you'd want to spend more time with her before she left for Central. Or would that be unwise, after tonight?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "No, nothing like that. Being dragged around the shopping district so someone else can spend my money isn't my idea of a good time, that's all. Besides," he grinned, impishly, " _Al_ wants to take her."

"Ah."

"So, anyway." He traced a finger along Roy's thigh, a gesture that was more familiar than suggestive. "I was thinking, since we have a good chunk of the day, maybe you and I could, y'know, go find somewhere that won't catch fire too easily." He glanced up and grinned again, gold eyes dancing. "I think I know a place that'll work, and it's not too far out of town."

Images from waking nightmares flashed across his vision at the thought of using his gloves, just as they had the other day before Ed had found him on base. He had been able to push past them then, for the first time in years, but it had been a struggle. Still, he couldn't help but smile back at his young lover's enthusiasm. "I think that sounds wonderful."


	9. Chapter 8

Morning, and the sunlight was soft and misty through the curtains. Roy was tempted to open the sheers, because Ed was so damn _beautiful_ in the morning sun, but that would require getting up, and he was feeling far, far too lazy and content at the moment to bother stirring. So he propped his cheek on his arm and watched his lover.

Ed squirmed down on the bed and stretched his arms over his head, arching his back like a cat and wriggling. Then he relaxed and flopped back down to the mattress with a sigh, no longer asleep but not yet ready to be awake.

Ed's shirt was ruched up under his arms from his stretch, and Roy gave in to temptation and let his hand slide across that broad, scarred chest, his palm coming to rest over a particular spot at the base of his sternum. It wasn't a scar so much as a complete lack of scars; a fist-sized patch of pale, flawless skin. There was a similar patch on the blond's back; between the two lay his heart, beating strongly now because of a little brother's love and devotion. It made Roy's own heart clench to think of it, to realize how close he had come to never knowing the best thing that had ever happened to his life.

Ed flopped his head in Roy's direction and cracked an eye open, then twisted onto his side and thumped against the older man's chest, squirming around until he was comfortable. Roy just draped an arm around his back and let himself be nudged and poked, enjoying the little contented sounds coming from his sleepy lover. The smaller man finally sighed and, with one last nudge of his head under the other man's chin, relaxed into a boneless sprawl.

Sunday mornings made the rest of the week worth it.

Alphonse was up, he usually rose before them on Sundays. Roy could hear the young man moving around downstairs. This morning there was sounds from a second person as well, the two voices engaged in some friendly banter about . . . pancakes? His lover had an odd family.

Roy smiled and pressed a kiss to the tangled blond hair tucked beneath his chin, reflecting to himself that he wouldn't want to change a thing.

"Wh—hey! Get back here with that!" Winry's voice, rising to an irritated pitch. "Al! Your stupid cat just stole my hair tie!"

"Maggie isn't _my_ cat. . . ."

The small body in his arms stiffened as the voices faded with distance, before Winry's sharp laughter cut through the walls. Roy started to chuckle, only to break off in a hiss when strong fingers dug into his side and pinched.

"Ow, ow—that's really rather painful, Love—"

Ed growled something but let go.

"I'm sorry—" though he wasn't, "—I just find it ironic, that's all—"

"So you keep reminding me." He shifted back and sat up, giving the dark-haired man a glare that was more than half pout.

"Can't I enjoy that my lover has a soft heart?"

"No." Ed kicked his shin, but with his flesh foot, and only hard enough to make Roy wince. "Not when you call it _irony_."

"Only that he turned out to be a troublemaker—" Another kick cut him short. "Well, it _is_ ironic."

The young man snorted and bounced off the bed, but his scowl kept tugging at the edges. Roy managed to keep in his own laughter until his lover was safely in the bathroom.

Winry greeted Ed at the bottom of the stairs with a grin that would have made Roy cringe if it had been directed toward him. "Oh, Eeeed-waaaard, you didn't tell me the kitty was yo-oours. . . ."

"He's not—really— _mine_. . . ."

"But you brought him _home_ , riiiight?"

The young man hunched and stalked passed her, grunting in response to Al's far too cheerful and innocent "Good morning!"

Roy wasn't even trying to fight his grin at this point.

"Aw, but I think it's sweet!" Winry persisted. "Taking a poor, homeless kitty-cat in out of the rain. . . ."

"Last time I am _ever_ that stupid."

"Yes, yes, we know," Al sang.

Ed flumped down at the table and glared at them all. "You're not ever going to let me live this down, are you."

"Nope."

"Uh-uh."

"Never."

Magpie jumped into his owner's lap and rubbed his chin.

* * *

Yu had forgotten that Amestrian libraries tended to close on Sundays; a holdover from some old religion that few still practiced, but she supposed traditions died hard. Even if it had been open, what Yu wanted was her own books that she had left back in Xing, and she had doubts that the library would have what she was looking for.

"‹Do you really think it could have been possible, Auntie?›" Li Xue asked her as they walked down the library steps.

"‹To be honest, I have no idea. I'd never thought it was anything more than a myth, before. Now I wish I'd paid more attention to it.›" After a moment, she asked, "‹How did Mei react?›"

"‹She got really quiet. I told her it was from a tabloid paper, but still, she seemed to think there was something there. Auntie. . . .›" The two women came to a park bench and sat down. "‹What do you think the princess is looking for?›"

Yu set her elbows against her knees and leaned her mouth against her folded hands. "‹You know about the Emperor. My guess . . . Mei is looking for an impossibility.›" Quietly, she added, "‹I just wish I knew for sure _what_ impossibility.›"

"‹. . . Yes.›"

Coming to a decision, the older woman stood and turned to her niece. "‹Come. We may not be able to find that myth, but my old friend may be able to tell us more about the article.›"

Luckily, Charles was easy to find, after a simple question to the receptionist at his hotel.

The retired general looked started at their question, then frowned. "Liore? Why would you want to know about that?"

"We're not sure ourselves," Yu admitted. "But please; it may be important."

He looked between the two women, then sighed, and shrugged. "Well, I don't know how much I'll be able to help you. It wasn't exactly in my jurisdiction."

Yu gave her friend an encouraging smile as he sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

"The official word was that it was a bomb, set by the serial killer called Scar. Your boy tell you about him?"

"He mentioned something, I think."

"Well, he was this Ishvalan who was killing state alchemists. He wasn't too picky about bystanders, either. He never came out to the west, and for that I'm very grateful, but I heard his total death toll was somewhere around fifteen or twenty. He was sited in Liore just before the troops entered the city, so it was a pretty good assumption he set off whatever it was."

Yu folded her arms and shared a look with her niece, before turning back to the general. "Old friend, you'll forgive me if I'm not quick to accept the official word."

Charles shook his head with a small smile. "Same old Yu. Well, nobody who got interviewed could come up with any sort of explanation. But. . . ." He dropped his voice, even though they were the only ones in his hotel room. "Rumor is what it really looked like was some sort of alchemy gone wild. It's known that this Scar person had been using alchemy in his killings, but _I've_ never heard of an alchemist doing anything that large—actually, that's more something I should be asking you, instead of the other way around."

"Only in legends. I cannot even imagine what a transmutation that large would take—or what it would do."

"The article," Li Xue interrupted. "It was not from a reliable newspaper, but it said that Edward-san was there when it happened."

"Yeah, I'd heard he was, come to think of it," Charles confirmed. "That's when he went AWOL. He didn't get interviewed with the others." He paused, as if considering, then continued. "One thing I do know—a bomb would leave debris. I didn't go there to see for myself, but I heard there wasn't much left of the city but sand."

"Oh?"

"That's the word."

"I see. . . ."

"What are you thinking, Yu . . .?"

"Alchemy . . . cannot make material vanish, any more than a bomb could. It can only change it. I don't . . . know what this could be."

The large man sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "A lot of good people died that day. I know _I'd_ like to know what really happened."

"I don't mean to sound uncaring," Yu said, "but at the moment I am more concerned with how someone may use this information in the future."

"‹Maybe this is why Mei was being so friendly yesterday,›" Li Xue muttered.

"‹Yes, I had that thought, too. If she suspects Edward-san can give her what she wants. . . .›"

"Hey, hey, no fair, ladies."

Yu smiled at her old friend. "My apologies; we were speculating."

"And? I have to say, I'd really like to know what's going on."

"So would we." She shared a look with her niece, considering. "Remember when I said I'd had a good view of Edward-san's temper?"

"Yes?"

"The other day he and Princess Mei started yelling at each other. They became quite angry. It makes us suspicious that she would then be so friendly, as she was yesterday." She paused a moment, then added, "We suspected Mei had reasons for coming here she was not telling us. Now we are trying to figure out what."

"What does this have to do with Liore?"

"I don't know. I'm not even sure it's Liore specifically that she's interested in, but there was something in that article that intrigued her. I just wish I knew why."

* * *

Roy narrowed his single eye, concentrating on the small pile of rocks, then snapped his fingers.

"Your field of effect is still pretty wide," Ed commented from where he was sitting, off to the side. "But at least you hit the cairn."

"Thank you _ever_ so much for that assessment."

The young man grinned at him, and Roy suppressed the urge to sigh. Truthfully, Ed _was_ being helpful—first by agreeing to come out here with him at all, and then in finding this old quarry site—but Roy was feeling frustrated.

"This isn't exactly easy, you know," he continued.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. You're actually doing pretty good."

He paused in the act of raising his hand and glanced at his lover.

"What? Can't I complement you?"

"You've been nitpicking me for the last half hour."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, duh, that's because you're finally at the nitpicking point."

Roy lowered his hand and looked at him for a moment, but then merely smirked and turned back to the target.

Twenty minutes or so later Roy felt that he was finally starting to get the hang of things. Each try took much longer to gauge than before, and his precision wasn't there, but he was hitting more than not and there wasn't _too_ large of a scorched area around the cairn.

"Not bad," Edward commented, then flashed him a grin. "Ready for something a bit harder?"

Roy paused and blinked at the younger man. "Huh?"

The blond bounced to his feet and ran over to a flat-sided boulder that was about ten feet high. Standing on tip-toes, he searched the stone until he found a suitable chink, then jabbed in a stick and stood back to admire his work.

"There." He pointed to a small bundle of twigs dangling about a foot below the far end of the stick. "Try hitting that."

Roy squinted at the bundle. "Ed, I can barely even _see_ that."

"Then it'll be a good challenge, won't it?" He grinned again and came back along side the older man. "You've been using the ground to try to gauge distance. That's fine if your target's standing still, but what if it's not? So," he pointed to the twigs again, "try that. With _small_ explosions."

He wasn't going to admit it, but his lover was right. The Flame had always prided himself on being able to intercept small targets in mid-air. A cairn of stones wasn't going to help him get _that_ back.

Roy raised his hand, then hesitated. He couldn't use the distance to the boulder as a gauge because of the angle of the stick. A small breeze was making the twigs sway, adding even more difficulty. He sighed, figured the worst he could do was miss, and snapped.

Too close.

Again.

Over compensated. He'd scorched the boulder with that one.

Again.

"I think you singed the edges that time. A little."

He allowed himself a small smile, and tried again.

Sometime later Roy peeled his gloves off and stuffed them in his pocket, trying not to let on how frustrated he was. True, he'd hit the twigs a few times, but more from accident than skill. This was going to take time.

"It must be past lunch already," he said, trying to rub some of the tension out of his shoulder and neck. "Why don't we head back?"

"In a bit." Ed walked back from inspecting the scorch marks, and then, incredibly, settled into a fighting stance, grinning. "Spar with me first."

Roy paused and blinked at the younger man. "What?"

"Come on!" He pushed at his shoulder, a move meant to goad him into retaliating. "You're all tense from concentrating. Spar with me!"

It had been an exchange, of sorts. Roy had taught Edward how to dance, and in return, Ed had taught Roy to spar. It had worked out well; Roy found that he liked sparring, and, though he would never get the younger man to admit it, he suspected Ed liked dancing. Ordinarily he would enjoy a chance to spar with his lover. However:

" _Here_?"

"Why not?"

"Edward, we're in the middle of a quarry! This is not the sort of surface I'd care to fall on."

"What, this? This is nothing, it's still mostly dirt! Besides, you should know how to take a fall by now." He made another strike, far from serious but one calculated to force the older man to either dodge or block. "Come on, spar!"

Seeing that there was no deterring the energetic blond, Roy sighed and dropped into one of the defensive stances Ed had taught him.

"About time, old man!" He struck again, and Roy deflected the punch. "But don't just dodge, come at me! It's not like you'd actually be able to hurt me."

"And you call _me_ arrogant."

Ed laughed, dancing out of the way of the older man's hesitant blow. "Aw, I fought better than that when I was _ten_."

Roy just grunted, deciding he shouldn't waste any more energy on words if he was to have any hope of landing a blow.

They both knew it wouldn't be an even fight. To say Ed was going easy on him would be an understatement. In addition to half a lifetime of practice, the younger man seemed to have a natural awareness of his body that Roy could only marvel at. He knew Ed didn't spar with him for the challenge.

It wasn't long before Roy started to enjoy himself; he stopped over thinking each move and simply relax into the rhythm of the back and forth. He still couldn't land a blow, while Ed had landed several (pulled strikes, which meant he was in the mood to tease rather than give him a serious workout), but it stopped being quite so important.

And then, Roy misjudged his footing, or didn't properly correct his balance, and a strike he couldn't dodge sent him over backwards. In a split second of panic he tried to remember everything he'd learned about rolling with the momentum and dispersing the energy of the fall and could only pray that there were no large rocks set to intercept his head—

—And then a metal arm clamped around the small of his back, and he found himself braced against a small, but very sturdy, body.

"You didn't _really_ think I'd let you take a fall here, did you?" Edward said, his nose pressed to Roy's cheek, beneath the eye patch.

The older man smiled, and let himself relax against his young lover.

Snickering, Ed nuzzled his jaw for a moment before letting go. "Come on, Bastard. Let's go get something to eat."

It wasn't until they were making their way back to the car that he realized something: he hadn't been bothered by memories and flashbacks. Not since Ed had set up that second target. He must have been too busy concentrating; and then too distracted by his lover. When Ed's fingers brushed shyly against his palm he gave the automail hand a squeeze, trying to convey his gratitude.

"I tried fire alchemy once," Ed commented. "Ages ago."

"Oh?"

The young man gave their joined hands an embarrassed sort of jiggle. "Singed my bangs and nearly burned down the dorms."

"Wait, you were _inside_ when you decided to try fire alchemy?"

"I didn't think it would get away from me! I underestimated the rate of combustion." He huffed, then muttered, "And I may have overestimated the amount of oxygen needed."

Roy chuckled. "Clearly."

"Al made me promise never to try it again. Or if I did, to make sure I was in the middle of a lake or a snow drift or something. Didn't think it'd be so fucking _hard_. You made it look easy."

Roy smirked, more warmed by the offhand comment than he was going to let on. Ed didn't toss complements out lightly.

"This was when you were twelve, right?" he said instead. "I think I remember you suddenly having shorter bangs."

"Eh? There's no way you can remember that."

"It was not long after you'd returned from your first assignment, wasn't it?"

"You're shitting me—why would you remember something like that?"

"I probably wouldn't, except that when you came into the office, Breda made a comment about it and you nearly took his head off—"

"—I'd totally forgotten about that."

"I had to see what the fuss was about, and I remember noting that your bangs were several inches shorter and wondering why."

"Several—? It wasn't _that_ much. Maybe an inch."

"Oh, it was at least two inches."

"An inch and a half. At the _most_."

He laughed and gave the other man's hand another squeeze. "Are you sure? We could ask Alphonse, he probably remembers."

"I'm sure he doesn't remember something like that," he said, too quickly.

Roy only laughed.

* * *

A small used book store was their best resource at the moment. The two women scanned the section on mythology and legends, looking for anything that might deal with vanishing populations.

"‹This one has legends from Creta. They often have fantastical elements.›"

"‹No, I'm sure this was Amestrian.›" Yu pulled a book from the shelf, then sighed and replaced it.

"‹Maybe we should try books on history.›"

"‹Maybe.›"

" _History of Automail to 1900_ —is that a first printing?"

Both women turned, intrigued by the excitement in the familiar voice.

"Oh my god, it is!" the young woman squealed. "Those are impossible to find!"

"I know; that's why I set it aside when it came in." Alphonse was grinning at his friend. "Granny's in here—look!" He opened the book and flipped to a marked page before passing it over.

"Oh, wow, she looks so young." Winry snickered. "'The pantheress of Resembool.'"

"I guess she really made a name for herself. She never talks about it."

Yu had to smile at the pair. She'd noted the day before that Alphonse seemed to have certain feelings for his older friend.

"Hey, is that your dad in the background?"

"Yeah, I think so." The boy moved to look over her shoulder. "They were drinking buddies back then."

"Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that. Speaking of your dad—you know what I noticed yesterday? Ed's always complaining about how much he looks like his father, but his glasses—"

"—Are almost identical to Dad's, I know. I can't quite bring myself to say anything about it."

"Knowing Ed, he'd probably deny it."

"Or say that they were the only frames available."

Winry laughed. "And he'd _insist_ that it didn't mean anything."

"And we were reading _far_ too much into it."

Something clicked as Yu looked at the serpent-and-cross emblem on the boy's back and she grabbed her niece's arm.

"Come on, there's something else I want to show you." Alphonse took the girl's hand and gave it a tug. "They're in back!"

"‹Auntie, what is it?›" Li Xue asked after the two had disappeared.

"‹Maybe nothing—but something struck me, just now. Li Xue, when you were evaluating the symbol those boys wear, I don't think you were necessarily wrong, but—I'm not sure you were right, either.›"

The younger woman frowned. "‹How do you mean?›"

"‹A cross can be restraints, but it also means death to at least one old religion from this area. A snake can mean wisdom or knowledge, but it can also symbolize rebirth. A crown is wisdom, but also power. Add the wings to that. . . .›"

"‹Death, rebirth, power, and freedom. I'm not sure I understand.›"

"‹But it's something an alchemist would. The freedom of power, power over life and death, perhaps freedom _from_ death.›" She sighed. "‹Another thing I thought was no more than a legend.›"

"‹More legends.›"

"‹Yes. But one that may have been enough to entice the princess to cross the desert.›"

  


_**Omake** : Ed and the kitten_

_About one month ago_ :

Ed scowled at the downpour. Of all the days to _walk_ to the library. . . . He sighed, turned up his collar, and stepped out. He'd probably get a lecture when he got home about paying attention to the weather. But it hadn't looked like rain this morning, and he'd only intended to be out for an hour or two—

_Maaaoooowwww_. . . .

The young man stopped, cocking an ear toward the sound.

_Maaowaaawww_. . . .

No. If the cat was stupid enough to get caught out in the rain, that was its problem. He shook his head, spraying water from his bangs, and took another step.

_Meeewww_. . . .

He stopped again. It sounded so little. . . .

No.

Lighting flashed, followed by thunder, and he caught sight of the miserable little furball as it scrambled behind the library's sign.

Ed sighed and, berating himself the whole time, walked over the sign and crouched down.

The cat, which couldn't have been more than seven or eight months old, looked up hopefully and edged toward him. _Maaaoowaaaoowww_. . . .

"Go home, stupid cat."

_Meeeewwww_. . . .

"No. I am not taking you home. You must live around here, go home!"

_Maaaoow_!

"I can't believe I'm talking to a cat." Against his better judgment, Ed reached out a hand. The kitten sniffed his fingers, then butted its forehead against his knuckles. "Thought so. You're too friendly to be a stray. Go home."

Thunder cracked again, and the kitten yowled and scrambled.

Edward sighed and hid his face in his hand, trying to ignore the feline that was cowering against his shins.

_Meeeewww_. . . .

"Fuck it."

The cat let out a startled squawk as he scooped it up, and Ed made a face as he stuffed the squirming, wet bundle of fur inside his coat. "You better appreciate this, you stupid flea bag," he said as he settled the kitten into the crook of his arm and stood, "because I am never, _ever_ going to live this down."

A soft vibrating against his chest was the only answer.


	10. Chapter 8.5

Ed hurried through his evening routine, finishing with his teeth and shucking his boxers before leaving the bathroom. Neither of them had to be up horribly early the next morning, Winry was finally in Central instead of in the guest room downstairs, and dammit, he'd been sitting on this since Friday.

Roy was focused on changing and didn't seemed to take notice of the other man coming up behind him. Ed put a hand on his arm to stop him from lifting the pajamas shirt. His other arm he snaked around the older man's waist and flattened his hand against his stomach, grinning when the bare skin twitched at the feel of the cool metal. "You didn't forget, did you?" he purred into the back of his neck.

Roy lowered the pajamas back into the dresser and leaned his head back against his smaller lover. "Oh, I hadn't forgotten, Love. Just waiting for you to bring it up."

Smug bastard. Ed growled and nipped the muscle that ran from shoulder to neck, then licked to soothe the bite. "Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are when you're throwing flames?" The automail had warmed up some by now, so he slid it downward, past the waistband of his pants, and gently cupped his lover's manhood. He still didn't understand why Roy got so turned on by the automail, but there was no denying the reaction it got, and tonight was no exception. Roy drew his breath in sharply and pressed himself into the metal hand.

"You probably do, you're such an egoist," Ed continued, carefully kneading the other man's growing arousal. If Winry only knew how he was putting the extra sensitivity she'd worked so hard on to use. "Fucking arrogant, fucking _sexy_ bastard."

"Ed. . . ."

He withdrew his hand and pushed the pajama pants down, stooping to get them past his thighs. He rubbed against the taller man's back as he straightened, sliding his hands up his legs to his hips, and then nudging him to turn around. "All that control . . . it's just fucking sexy."

Roy let out a startled laugh as he stepped out of his pajamas and turned to face his lover. " _That's_ what you focus on?"

"Of course." He slid the eye patch away and dropped it on the dresser, then tangled his flesh hand in the thick, dark hair. "Blowing shit up is easy. It's _not_ blowing it up that's hard."

He chuckled, his arms wrapped loosely around the smaller man. "You're right, of course. But that's not what most people notice."

"Of course I'm right." Edward stood on tip-toe and pressed his lips next to the scar that ran across the other man's cheek, to a spot he knew was sensitive. "But _you're_ what makes that control sexy," he breathed.

Roy hummed, low in the back of his throat, and turned his head to catch Ed's mouth in a heated kiss.

Ed walked them back a few steps, then twisted, expertly throwing the larger man onto the bed. He smirked at the startled expression and went to retrieve the lube from the bedside table, taking a moment to admire the sprawled form before him. He knew his lover was making discreet visits to the gym. He found the vanity amusing, but that didn't keep him from admiring the results.

Roy arranged himself into a lounge, managing to look at if he'd intended to be there all along. The smirk he gave the younger man as he climbed onto the bed only heightened his desire to fuck him through the mattress.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget what control _is_ ," Ed growled, crawling up between the older man's legs and planting his hands on either side of his abdomen.

"Is that so?"

"You just wait." He gave him a predatory grin, then dipped his head, dragging his tongue up the line of his ribcage to his chest. He kissed his way to a nipple, clamping his teeth around the nub for a moment before licking and sucking.

Roy's hands were in his hair, but not clutching, and his breathing had hitched, but wasn't erratic or gasping. Good, but not good enough.

The young man kissed higher, and nipped his collar bone, before lying full length against his lover and sucking at the base of his neck as he ground their erections together.

"Ed— _ah_ , Love—"

Better.

Ed smirked against his neck before pushing back to admire his handiwork. Roy's pale skin marked so easily, something Ed took great delight in. He was just glad the uniforms had high collars, or else Roy might make him stop.

He gave one last thrust of his hips, and then sat back on his heels. The other man's fingers trailed through his hair, lingering a moment at the ends before lowering to the bed.

"You may make the edges fray a bit, Love," Roy said, his expression heated but contained, "but do you really think you'll be able to make me lose control entirely?"

"That sounds like a challenge, Colonel Bastard."

He smirked. "If that's how you take it."

Ed smirked back, hooking his hands beneath the older man's thighs and pushing his knees up. "You know me, Colonel. I never back down from a challenge."

"Oh, I do know." His hands caught the younger man's. "My Fullmetal."

He was held in that dark gaze for a moment, before he deliberately slipped his hands away and picked up the lube. The only way Ed would be able to make him lose control was if Ed _kept_ his, and control was something the bastard had always been too good at making him lose.

While his hands were busy with the tube, he nuzzled the inside of one pale thigh, nipping the tender skin just hard enough to make the thigh jump, before turning to the man's groin. He nosed through the scratchy hair, and then mouthed the sack. A small hitch to the other man's breath encouraged him, and he sucked gently for a moment before sitting up, earning a soft moan.

Fingers well lubed, he replaced the cap and set the small tube to one side. "You think your control's so strong?" Very deliberately, Ed curled his right hand around the older man's erection, sliding the metal fingers up to the head and applying _just enough_ pressure. Roy gasp, albeit quietly. "Nothing's so strong it can't be broken."

"Prove it, Love," he husked, his single eye full of lust but also challenge. "Prove it."

"Gladly."

With the fingers of his left hand he toyed with the other man's entrance, pressing against it with one or two fingers only to draw back again, while he slowly stroked his cock with the automail. Teasing like this was more Roy's domain; Ed's usual method was to plunge into things head first—or cock first, as the case may be. But they'd upped the stakes and this game required a different strategy.

He slid two fingers in, just past the ring of muscle, and leaned forward to flick his tongue against the head of the other man's cock. Steadying it now with his right hand, he wrapped his lips around the head, and wriggled his fingers without pressing them in any farther.

Roy's hips twitched. Just a little, but it was enough. Ed thrust his fingers in sharply, aiming for that particular spot, just as he took more in his mouth and sucked. He was rewarded with gasp and another twitch.

Very good.

After a few sucks, he pulled back, licking the head one final time. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out, spreading them and wriggling them back and forth to stretch his lover. "Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice low and rough. "I want to hear you ask for it." He moved his right hand to the other man's stomach, leaving his cock completely abandoned.

"Ed—"

"Tell me, Flame Colonel."

Roy took his hand in both of his and slid it further up his abdomen. "How long can you hold out?" One hand stroked up the metal arm, very similarly to how Ed had been treating his erection. "How long before you give in and fuck me as you're so desperate to do? Your cock must me aching to be inside me."

"You—"

"Can you feel me, tight around you?" The muscle around his fingers clenched. "How long can you stand to be so close and yet unsatisfied?"

"Shit—fucking _bastard_." Ed tore his arm away—but he also pulled his fingers out and spread some of the lube on his own erection. He leaned over the other man, lining himself up even as he snarled at his defeat. "Bastard," he repeated as he slid inside, swallowing a moan at the tight heat. "This isn't over."

Roy drew in his breath sharply, arching his hips up to meet the younger man and wrapping his legs around his waist. "Oh, I'm—counting on it, Fullmetal. I'm counting on it."

Ed settled into a good, hard pace, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in. His anger quickly melted away and he started to focus on the reactions he could win out of his lover. Roy's hands were clamped around his forearms now, and with each thrust his fingers would spasm tighter. His gaze was locked with Ed's, the challenge of their game seemingly forgotten, leaving only desire. "Ed—Love—" He was starting to pant. It was little things like this that made Ed want to see the other man completely lost in pleasure.

Ed leaned down and kissed his chest, then shifted his weight to bring his left hand to the other man's cock. Roy didn't let go of his arm, which complicated things, but he still managed to get his hand over the shaft, and began stroking in time with his thrusts.

Before long, the older man was moaning. "Close, Love. Close—" He broke off, his back arching and his hands convulsing on the younger man's arms as he climaxed.

The sight was enough to send Ed over the edge. He bit back his cry—remembering that his little brother _was_ down the hall—and thrust through the orgasm, then collapsed on top of his lover.

He breathed in the thick smell of sweat and sex, and listened to Roy's heartbeat as it gradually slowed back down to normal. The fingers gently carding through his hair completed the blissful moment. Ed thought back over the encounter and tried to figure out which of them had come out ahead. He knew he hadn't won their little impromptu game—but he hadn't exactly lost, either. Deciding that it really didn't matter, not in this case, he let out a sigh and lifted his head, propping his chin on the other man's chest. Roy was smiling down at him, looking just as contented as Ed felt.

The blond pushed himself up and pulled back far enough to pull free, then crawled up for a lingering kiss. "My Flame Colonel." He sighed again and settled down, sprawled across the larger body with his head tucked next to the dark-haired man's neck. "I _will_ make you lose control, one of these days."

Roy's arms wrapped around him, keeping him safe and secure. "I look forward to it." The older man stroked his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "My Fullmetal."


	11. Chapter 9

"‹Are you questioning me?›"

Yu bowed low over her hands. "‹With all respect, Princess—yes, I am.›" She straightened, looking up at the princess from where she knelt on the floor. "‹I know it was more than simple curiosity that drove you across the desert. You hope to find something here in Amestris—something that has eluded you in Xing.›" Calmly holding the young woman's eye, she added, "‹I want to know what.›"

"‹And if I don't tell you?›"

The older woman allowed herself a small smile. "‹Why, then I'll be of much less use to you in my ignorance.›"

Mei returned the smile, then turned away to look out at the courtyard. "‹Assuming you would want to help me at all, Yu Mustang.›"

Yu bowed again. "‹I am loyal to the Chang clan and its heir. You know I'll help you however I can.›"

The princess sighed, petting Xiao Mei as she turned something over in her mind. "‹There's something . . . _brutal_ about the alchemy from this country.›" She set the miniature panda on the window sill, then turned back to the other woman. "‹Our pharmacy is . . . tame and staid in comparison.›"

"‹'Brutal'? How do you mean?›"

"‹I'm not sure I can explain.›" She knelt by Yu, frowning. "‹It's something I first felt when watching you transmute, but it's not something I can put into words. It's just . . . an uncomfortable feeling.›"

Yu frowned, but kept quiet.

"‹My best guess is that it comes from the energy that western alchemy uses to transmute. I know you told me that it comes from the movements of the land, but if that's true, I can't understand why it feels so different than _qi_ lines.›"

Yu shook her head, somewhat self-deprecating. "‹I would help you with that if I could, Princess, but I've always been a bit blind and deaf when it comes to _qi_. I've never noticed much of a difference. But, even given that, I don't understand what you think you can find here.›"

Mei chewed her lip for a moment. "‹I . . . heard a rumor. I'm not the only one of the emperor's children who heard it, but—I think—I'm the only one who came to this particular conclusion. According to the rumor, something happened here in Amestris about four years ago. Out on their eastern border, a city vanished into sand. The rumor said it was likely alchemy.›"

She took a deep breath, then said, as evenly as she could, "‹And what use do you see in something so destructive?›"

"‹Do you really think there could be that much destruction—without creation?›"

In response Yu did nothing more than raise her eyebrows.

Mei started to say something more, but they were both distracted by a voice out in the courtyard.

"Oh—you're the princess's pet, aren't you. Hello— _ow_! Ow-ww . . . hey, it's okay, you don't need to be afraid of me—wow, your teeth really are sharp, aren't they. . . . See? There's no reason to bite. I won't hurt you, see?"

The two women shared a bemused look. "‹Are you sure those boys are related?›"

"‹Princess, be nice,›" the older woman chided, trying her best not to laugh.

Mei bounced to her feet and trotted out to the courtyard, while Yu rose somewhat more slowly to follow. She did have a better idea now what the princess was hoping to find, but it was an idea that sat less and less easily with her the clearer it became.

"I'm sorry," the young woman was saying, "Xiao Mei bites sometimes if she's not sure of someone."

"It's okay, she didn't bite hard." Alphonse grinned up from where he knelt by the little panda, one hand still held out. "It was presumptuous of me to try to pet her outright like that. But she's okay now, see?" He gently patted the bewildered animal with the fingers that hadn't been bitten.

". . . Well. I have to say I'm impressed," Yu admitted. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone make friends with Xiao Mei that quickly."

"What's that you brought?" Mei nodded at the books the boy was hugging to his chest.

"Oh, these are some alchemy texts. They're just beginning books, but I thought we could use them to see how it's different from what you use. I'd really like to know more about how it's used medically, but first I think I need to understand the foundation better."

"I would like to know more about the alchemy of this country, too." Mei crouched down, apparently ready to settle in to a discussion then and there. Yu cleared her throat.

"Alphonse-kun, I think we should take care of your finger, first."

"Oh, it's fine!" He waved the hand to demonstrate. "It's not even bleeding much, see?"

She smiled. "Then humor this old woman, please. I've been a mother too long to let it go."

* * *

"I've flagged anything that looked promising," Ed waved a gloved hand at the folder Lt. General Radcliff was flipping through, "but it's all gonna need more research before it's useful. I made some notes in a few places about that. This guy had some good ideas—and some _really_ out there ones—but he hardly followed through on anything. Actually, he sounded like a nut job."

Roy had to smirk to himself at the relatively mild comment, having listened to Ed's ranting while the blond had been going through the copious notes that had been left to the state. Ed had _some_ governance over his tongue, it seemed.

Radcliff was nodding as he skimmed the notes and listened to Ed go into detail on a few points. "That one does sound promising—yes, and I think I know exactly who to give that to." He tapped the folder closed, and smiled genially a the young man across the table. "You've saved my researchers a considerable amount of time, Elric-san, and I'm sure they'll be just as grateful as I am."

Ed grinned and shrugged. "Well, yeah, I'm sure it would've taken them longer, but it's not like it was any big deal. The code wasn't even that hard to crack, it's like the guy wasn't even trying."

Roy suppressed the urge to roll his eye. Little brat had no business calling _him_ arrogant.

But the Lt. General merely chuckled. He exchanged a few more pleasantries, thanked Ed again, and shook his hand. Ed responded amiably, if not with strict politeness, then tossed a grin and a wave over his shoulder at Roy before making his way out of headquarters.

"Shame to waste a talent like that on contract work," Radcliff commented after the young man had left. "What are the chances of getting him to sign up with the state again?"

Roy chuckled. "Very small, I'm afraid. Fullmetal was never fond of rank and regulations."

"But I notice you still call him by his state title."

"Old habits. He still calls me 'Colonel.'"

Radcliff laughed as he followed the other man from the conference room. "I think I'd be insulted."

"He insists it's not meant as an insult; it's just that 'Brigadier General Bastard' doesn't quite have the same ring to it."

"Ha!" He clapped the younger man on the back as they entered Roy's office. "You two won me a nice chunk of change, by the way. General Raven bet that you wouldn't make it a year."

Roy _tsk_ ed. "So little faith." After they were both seated, he added, "So how does the betting stand on me keeping my current position?"

"Come now, you know I can't tell you that." Radcliff grinned at him from the couch opposite. "It might skew the results." Setting the folder on the cushions, he leaned forward against his knees. "Seriously, Mustang—the Brass might have had other reasons for sticking you out in the east, but we _need_ good men out here. I don't think I need to tell you what a potential powder keg this is."

"Potential explosions are something I can appreciate, believe me." Roy crossed his legs and casually hooked his interlaced fingers around his knee. "It's nice to know there are some who aren't just sitting back and waiting for the fireworks, however."

"There _are_ those of us who think you might be able to pull it off. By the way, I hear you have family visiting."

"Yes, my mother. She came with the embassy from Xing."

"What's the story behind that, anyway? It seemed to come out of the blue. This isn't something you've been planning on the sly, is it?"

Roy chuckled. "Hardly. I had less than two weeks notice myself. I got the impression that this trip was planned very quickly."

"One of the wilder rumors is that they're looking for state secrets."

"I don't see what good it would do them, even if they were. With the desert between us, there's not much chance of going to war, and our governments are so different, I can't imagine anything from ours would be much use to them. Princess Mei's main focus seems to be alchemy, and she's hardly have to infiltrate the government to learn about that."

"True enough. Still, watch yourself. _I'm_ certain of your loyalty to Amestris, but there are those who might try to argue differently."

"I'm well aware, believe me."

* * *

"I'm looking for my brother. He said he'd be coming by here," Ed explained to the man who'd met him at the entrance to the embassy.

The man smiled and bobbed a few times. "Yes? You look for someone?"

"My _brother_. Al. He came here this morning."

"Many people here. Many people."

He grit his teeth and tried to remember _diplomacy, diplomacy_. . . . "Look, he—can you just tell me where he is? It's not like you could've missed him, he's probably the only blond in the whole fucking place."

"Not worry! We find him! I help!"

Ed rubbed his forehead. Must not punch a member of the embassy, Roy would be very unhappy if he punched a member of the embassy. "Okay . . . let's try this again. _Did_ a blond kid with a ponytail come by here earlier?"

The man stood there smiling at him for so long Ed was starting to think he hadn't understood the question, but he finally bobbed his head and said "Yes."

"Red coat? This same symbol on it?" He indicated the flamel that was appliquéd on the left side of his coat.

"Not same."

"Is he—huh? What?"

"Not same. Yours on front. His on back."

Ed wondered if the man could hear his teeth grinding.

"Edward-san?"

He turned with relief toward the familiar voice. " _Finally_ , someone who'll give me a straight answer."

Li Xue smiled as she came up next to him. "You're looking for your brother, yes? I saw him with the princess a little while ago." Then she turned and said something to the still-smiling man that had the tone of a mild rebuke. He merely bobbed his head and smiled some more. Ed glared at him.

"Don't mind him," she said as she lead him across the embassy grounds. "By the way, I hear you were away for a while, a few years ago?"

"What?" He lowered his eyebrows and eyed the woman warily. "Um—yeah. . . ."

"Traveling? Where did you go to?"

"Nowhere you'd've heard of—why d'you want to know, anyway?"

"I like learning about other lands." She smiled again. "That is why the princess brought me along. It sounds as if you were somewhere very interesting."

"Not especially." He scowled. "It's not like I took notes; I didn't want to be there in the first place. What's it matter?"

"It doesn't; I was just curious where you could have been for so long."

Without further comment, she led him to a secluded part of the courtyard, an area Ed hadn't seen during the demonstration. As they neared, he could see Al bent over, looking at something Mei was sketching on the ground. He paused, marveling yet again at how his brother's movements were no longer accompanied by the clatter and scrape of metal, that the hands he leaned on were flesh and blood that could be poked by the pebbles and twigs on the concrete, not unfeeling gauntlets, that it was genuine hair he brushed back, not the tassel of a helmet. And when he looked up the grin could be read over his entire face, not just in the two glowing dots that had substituted for eyes.

"Nii-san! Princess Mei was just explaining the _qi_ lines in the body. How did Lieutenant General Radcliff like the analysis?"

Li Xue was giving him a curious look. Ed shrugged, mentally bringing himself back to the present, and walked over to join his brother. "He said it saved him a lot of time. I doubt he really understood what he was reading, he just knew it was something he could give his pet alchemists. I'm sure none of them could've gotten it done that fast."

Al gave him a look of tolerant exasperation, which Ed met with raised eyebrows and another shrug; it's not like it wasn't the truth.

"You left the military, yet you do work for their officers?" Yu said from the doorway.

Ed couldn't decide if her expression was amused, or condescending, or simply curious. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried not to bristle outright. "I'm contract now. I can turn down whatever I don't like."

"How nice that you have such a luxury."

He suppressed a frown as he watched her hand Mei a couple of scrolls. She was as enigmatic as Roy used to be, before Ed had really gotten to know him. He'd almost forgotten just how irritating it was. "I don't just get jobs from the military, I get outside contracts, too—few months ago I had one from the university."

"I imagine your reputation serves you well."

He opened his mouth for another retort, but Al was giving him one of those _looks_ of his, so he sighed in exasperation and dropped to the ground next to his brother to see what Mei was unrolling. He eyed her mutant pet warily to make sure it wasn't going to try anything. It eyed him back.

"Here are the main channels in the body," the princess was explaining. The scroll had an outline of the human body, with various points and lines marked. "There are also lesser channels and solitary points. What we can do with _rentanjutsu_ is tap into these channels to help the body heal, or 'read' them to find out what is wrong."

She went on to brief them on the channels and points, and Ed soon found himself lost. He understood biology, he and Al had studied the human body pretty closely once upon a time, but this was insane. How could pressing a point on the hand affect the liver? And what did it have to do with alchemy?

"Okay . . . I'm not sure I understood all of that, but I think I kinda get the theory behind the energy channels," Al said, with much more diplomacy than Ed could have managed. Ed was wondering how Xing's alchemists ever made it out of the dark ages.

"The channels are the foundation." Mei jabbed a finger at the scroll. "If you don't understand how the _qi_ flows, then you can't manipulate it!"

"This is crazy!" Ed snapped. He waved a hand at the chart. "These don't follow the circulatory system, the nervous system, or any _other_ biological system!"

The princess glared at him, then narrowed her eyes further in what looked like contemplation. Instead of answering, her hand shot out, lightning quick, and jabbed his forearm.

"The _fuck_ —owww ow-ow-ow!" He'd jerked back, but a sudden headache made him drop his head to his hands. "What the fuck did you _do_??"

"That's one of the _qi_ channels."

"Wow."

Ed growled behind his hands; his brother sounded far too impressed.

Thankfully, the headache was short-lived, and Ed was soon glaring at Mei as he tried to rub the residual ache out of his temples. Yu, sitting behind the young woman, was watching this with one hand over her mouth, her shoulders twitching with suppressed laughter.

"But how do you know where they are?" Al was asking. "It's more than just knowing the location, isn't it? You talked about 'reading' them."

"If you find your center and clear your mind, you can sense _qi_ , whether it's in a person or in the land."

"'Center'?" Al rubbed the back of his head. "Like your center of balance?"

"No—well, yes, but no. They're related, but your _center_ is more than your physical center. The _huang-ting_ is the center of your _being_."

"Hoong—huu—"

"Haang—what?"

Mei sighed. " _Huang-ting_ ," she enunciated. "It's—here." She passed the scroll to Yu, then picked up a piece of chalk and started to scribble again on the concrete. What she drew looked like a little house with a trapezoid roof, and an open doorway in the middle of a square wall. She drew a circle around it, then scratched two of those weird Xingian glyphs inside the doorway. "'The spirit of the center,'" she said. Leaning over, she wrote more, each phrase radiating out from the edge of the circle. " _Huang-ting_ : the 'yellow court.' The 'gate of the meaning of the _Dao_ '—ummm, _dao_ means 'way' or 'truth,' or 'order.' 'Empty; non-being.' The 'gate of all wonders.' . . ."

Edward had stopped listening. All he could hear was the soundless buzzing that had filled his head at the word _gate_. Beside him he was aware that Al had gone tense, but he couldn't risk looking at him. It was all he could do to not leap forward and smudge out the drawing. His hands tightened on his knees, his right tightening enough that his leg throbbed.

The pain brought him back to himself and he shook his head sharply, tearing his eyes away from the simple chalk diagram. "This—this _Gate_ ," he said, fighting to keep his voice even, "this isn't where the energy comes from—is it?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Al startle, but he deliberately kept his focus on Mei.

"What?" Mei looked up from her drawing and blinked. "No, of course not, the _qi_ is already there. The _huang-ting_ is only the center."

He took a deep, slow breath, and forced his hands to relax. "So it is. . . ." He smiled, the expression ironic and humorless. "Of course it is."

"Nii-san—?"

Al's voice was apprehensive, but also held a note of confusion. He still didn't know. Edward shook his head; he intended to keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _huang-ting_ or Yellow Court is an actual concept from Chinese alchemy, although I'm taking a few liberties. (I'm also taking liberties with pressure points, although the one Mei used _is_ associated with headaches (curing them, not causing them).)


	12. Chapter 10

Yu took a sip of her tea—proper tea, not the harsh drink that used the name here in Amestris—and flipped back a few more pages in her journal. This was her oldest one, from back when she had first come to this country as a young woman. She had had little more than a working knowledge of the language, and much of her early notes had been attempts to translate the foreign words and concepts into something more familiar. She smiled wryly, remembering how little success she'd had. She had eventually resorted to learning the science and the language in tandem. Only after she had the basics of both down did she have any success merging alchemy with her native teachings.

What she was searching for was any mention of anything similar to the Yellow Court. But the concept of finding one's center seemed to be absent from alchemy; in fact, anything to do with the spirit was largely missing. Western thinking divided human beings into three parts, the body, the mind, and the soul, but treated the soul as an unknown, the ever-present _x_ in the equation, and seemed content to leave it at that.

_No wonder this country is so unstable_ , she thought, then chided herself. Xing was hardly any healthier a country, especially now with the emperor ill and the line of succession uncertain.

Politics aside. What Yu wanted to find out now was why those boys had reacted the way they did. The Yellow Court was hardly a frightening concept, and she had looked through the beginning alchemy books Alphonse had left and now her own journals without finding anything remotely similar.

With a sigh, she set the journal aside and sipped her tea, cradling the handleless mug between her palms as she thought. The concept of a spiritual center hadn't been what alarmed them; they had been confused and, at least in Edward's case, maybe frustrated, but it had been when Mei had started elaborating on the Yellow Court that they had grown so pale.

Setting her mug down, Yu took a piece of scratch paper and wrote out the Xingian characters for _gate of the meaning of the Dao_. Yes, it had been then. And then Edward had asked the oddest question: _this Gate isn't where the energy comes from, is it_? The emphasis had been quite clear.

She wrote the character for _gate_ by itself and circled it. Next to it she sketched out the snake-and-cross symbol those two wore so prominently. She tapped the pen against the page as she thought. Had she ever come across the concept of a "Gate" in her studies? It didn't sound familiar.

And did their crest really mean what she thought it did?

Sighing again, she folded the paper in half and picked up her current journal. She wasn't going to figure this out by staring at the table.

When she opened the book, a bundle of papers slid out and dropped into her lap. She blinked at them, then smiled to herself; she had forgotten she'd brought those along. She tucked the note into the journal and set the book aside, then picked up and unfolded the letters.

Yu always saved any correspondence she got from her son. After his last letter, she had gone through his previous ones, looking for any mention of Edward over the years. There had been several, but most of them were inconsequential. At least at first glance; looking back at them now, she thought she could see the beginnings of a certain kind of affection.

The most recent letter was on top. She scanned past the first part, where he talked about his demotion, transfer, return, and legal battle to reclaim his rank. There were gaps there that she still hadn't gotten satisfactory answers to, but she would worry about that some other time. A few pages in she started reading in earnest.

>   
> __
> 
> I've started a relationship with someone. I hesitate to use the word "dating," because that implies a certain level of conventionality, and this is anything but. We haven't been seeing each other long, but we've known each other for a while, and I have a good feeling about this. I have a good feeling about him.
> 
> Yes, him. You didn't misread that.

Yu remembered stopping and rereading those lines several times.

> I'm sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, but I can't think of any good way to broach the subject. I'll state it plainly: I'm in a romantic relationship with another man. A relationship that I hope will last.
> 
> His name is Edward. He's—there is no one word I can think of to describe him. He's brilliant, but maddeningly dense at the same time. Charming, charismatic, rude, incredibly irritating and completely irresistible. I know this probably isn't making any sense. Ed defies description.
> 
> You might remember him from my previous letters. Ed was under my command a few years back. I might have referred to him then as "Fullmetal," which was his state alchemist title. He's been out of the military for a few years now, and I still have a habit of calling him that.
> 
> If you do remember my mentions of him, you're probably wondering about his age. He's an adult, and more deserving of the title than some men twice his age, but yes, Edward is significantly younger than I am.

So far, all Yu had seen was a boy who still looked and acted like a teenager, and an immature one at that. She was waiting for a sign of the "maturity" her son seemed so enamored of.

She set that letter aside and flipped to the oldest one in the stack.

>   
> __
> 
> The state alchemy exam concluded a few days ago. Only one title was awarded this year, and it was given to a twelve-year-old boy. Can you imagine that? But this is no ordinary child—in fact, I hesitate to use the word "child" for him at all. He's young—painfully young, really—but he's already been through a lot, and he has more than enough determination and drive. His name is Edward Elric. He was given the title "Fullmetal," supposedly for his prosthetics, but I suspect it's more for his guts and his nerve. At any rate, it's a fitting title. He hasn't gotten the official paperwork yet, so I don't know how he'll react to it.
> 
> I met him last year, and was impressed enough by his skill and strength to suggest he consider becoming a state alchemist. I didn't expect to see him again for years. In addition to his age, he'd just been badly injured (thus the need for the prosthetics I mentioned), and I expected him to take a few years at least to recover.
> 
> I underestimated him, clearly. Not only did he waltz into Central less than a year later looking like he'd never been injured, he completely blew away the alchemy board. They couldn't give him a watch fast enough. Because I sponsored him, he's been placed under my command. I'm not sure just yet what to do with him, but I would be a fool not to recognize his value.
> 
> If I was going to be completely honest, I would have to say that he scares me some. He's strong, incredibly brilliant—a genius, really—and driven in a way that is not entirely healthy. I'd hate to think what could have happened if someone else had gotten to him first. As it is I can easily see him running headlong into a bad situation—or causing one. I shall have to watch him carefully.
> 
> This has been sitting on my desk for a couple of days, too much has been happening for me to finish it. I can't tell you any details because the military still considers it an open investigation, but a young girl died, and Edward took it pretty hard. His reaction showed that he still is a child in some ways. What he probably needed was a parent, someone to comfort him—but he doesn't have that. Instead he got his command officer. I said some pretty harsh things to him. I feel terrible about it, but he needed to hear it. He's a boy in a man's world, and he won't make it unless he learns to pull himself together. Better he learns now. (I'm sure he hates me, though. He has every right to.)
> 
> As if that weren't enough, that boy got himself tangled up with a serial killer not a day later. I look back at what I wrote about him running headlong into danger and I cringe. I can see this becoming a pattern with him. But he handled himself better than many grown men would have—better than many soldiers I know. He's grown up quite a bit just in the short time I've known him, and I think he'll be all right. Provided he doesn't get himself in over his head one of these days.

She still remembered part of her reply letter: _You brought a child into the military—and now he's facing down serial killers?_

She flipped to the next letter in the stack and read part of her son's reply:

>   
> __
> 
> Fullmetal pursued the case against my direct orders. I did everything I could to keep him out of it, short of locking him away. In the end he was acting to save the life of a dear friend of his and at that point even locks and chains wouldn't have been enough. That boy leaps in with both feet and comes out on top out of sheer stubbornness, but his heart is always in the right place. Now if only I could get him to think ahead once in a while. If nothing else, it would mean less paperwork for me.

Yu set the letters down and sipped at her cooling tea. There was admiration and maybe even a certain fondness in these earlier letters, but it was more like that of a mentor or older brother. As well it should be, given the boy's age. Just when had that changed? Roy had said that Edward had been fifteen. She frowned and shifted in her chair, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. There wasn't much difference between twelve and fifteen; at least not from her perspective.

Her personal feelings on _that_ aside, it was clear from the letters that there was something . . . _unique_ about Edward Elric, and his situation. What would make a boy that age push himself to join the military? And for the military to accept a child, even a brilliant one—there must be more here than she was seeing.

She pulled the note from her earlier musings back out and contemplated the snake-and-cross emblem. After a moment of thought, she wrote around it the characters for _knowledge_ , _power_ , _freedom_ , and _life and death_. Beneath it she wrote _containing or tempering the volatile_. Containing it how? Tempering it with what? And just _what_ volatile substance?

The sound of footsteps outside startled her out of her thoughts. She tucked the note away and tapped the letters back into a neat pile, just as a familiar large frame filled the doorway.

"Ah! Good." Charles grinned in relief as he moved to join her at the small table. "I was beginning to think I'd never find you in this place. Couldn't make heads or tails of the directions I got."

Yu couldn't help but chuckle. "Let me guess: you were told 'off the courtyard,' yes?"

"Something like that." He glanced at the papers on the table as he sat.

"Edward-san said something peculiar this morning, and I was hoping to find something in my old notes that might help explain it," she said. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine. But speaking of Edward, that's why I'm here."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "You ladies got me thinking about Liore, so I called up an old colleague of mine to see if I could find out anything. He had interviewed one of the survivors just after it all happened. Turns out the Fullmetal kid was more involved than I thought."

"Oh?"

He pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it, then read from what was evidently some notes. "Let's see . . . Colonel Archer had sent Fullmetal into the city as a scout. He came out just as the army was preparing to move. He was adamantly against proceeding, but Archer ignored him, and gave the order to move."

"'Adamantly against'?"

He gave her a brief smile. "Well, that's the official wording." He cleared his throat, looking back down at his notes. "All right, here's where things get strange. As soon as the bulk of the army was in the city, a dome of light, like from alchemy, only _huge_ , spread out over everything. The entire city and much of the surrounding area was affected. But according to this witness, as soon as this started, the kid ran forward and dove to the ground. When the light cleared, everyone who had been behind the kid, in a swath about fifteen feet across, had survived. Everyone else—gone."

"'Gone'?"

Charles nodded. "I asked the same question. My colleague said the soldier had been very specific about that: not 'dead'—' _gone_.' Anyone who'd been caught at the edge of it looked like they'd been cut in two, with part of their bodies missing."

Yu drew back and covered her mouth. "Oh, how _awful_."

He nodded again, looking a little nauseous himself. "I know. That part was left out of the official report. So was the part where the Fullmetal kid saved some of those who would have otherwise been caught in that transmutation as well. And I'm sure now that's what it was—I've never heard of a bomb that makes people _disappear_."

"No, neither have I." She lowered her arms and leaned against the table. "But I've also never heard of a transmutation that large. It is possible in theory, but the larger the transmutation is, the greater the risk of it becoming unstable and rebounding. An alchemist would have to have a death wish to try something like that."

"Or simply not care, which fits with everything I've heard about Scar."

"And Edward-san . . . it is possible—again, in _theory_ —for one transmutation to cancel out another, but the second alchemist would have to have a pretty deep understanding of the first transmutation, and the amount of energy needed. . . ." Yu's eyes slid to the stack of letters. A twelve-year-old who showed that sort of potential . . . no wonder the military had wanted him under its thumb while he was still impressionable.

The retired general grimaced, folding the paper and stuffing it back into his pocket. "Probably should've said this before—Liore was too big of thing for the military to hush up entirely, but a lot of people would've liked to. What I've just told you here probably shouldn't get around. You understand, right?"

Yu smiled and reached across the table to squeeze her old friend's hand. "Of course. I can't see what good would come of it, anyway."

He smiled back, then shook his head. "I like that kid, I do. He's got a problem with his temper, but he seems like a good kid."

"But . . .?"

"I've always thought there was something . . . strange about him. It's not normal for a kid to be that strong." He sighed, tapping a finger against the table. "Just from the scuttlebutt I've heard over the years, I think many of the officers were afraid of him. I imagine _most_ of the lower ranks were. People are wary of state alchemists anyway, but one as powerful as this kid?"

"And at such a young age."

He nodded. "Not to mention that he had a reputation for being a loose cannon. Mustang gave him a long leash, but from the sound of it, he acted like he didn't have a leash at all. The Brass don't like that kind of thing. I'm wondering now why he was never transferred."

"I have other questions concerning Edward as well. But at the moment. . . ." Yu stood and gathered up her papers, sighing. "If you'll excuse me, old friend, there is something I should discuss with Princess Mei."

* * *

The fence rattled as Ed was slammed against it. The blade of Al's hand came to a stop a hair's breadth from his throat, the other arm pinning him across the chest.

"It's not usually _that_ easy to beat you," Al observed as he stepped back. "You really are distracted."

Ed glared and flipped his brother off, not wanting to spare the breath for a verbal retort.

"I was surprised, too—but, we shouldn't be, now that I think about it." Al shrugged, then stretched his shoulders. "The Gate's the same everywhere."

"Yeah, you're right." He pushed off from the fence and rolled his shoulders. "It—it just startled me. I mean. . . ." He glanced away, trying not to look like he was floundering for an explanation. "We've never come across any reference to it—we wouldn't know it existed if we hadn't _seen_ it—and then here it is out in the open. It's weird, y'know?"

"Yeah, it is strange," Al said, frowning. For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something more, but then shrugged again. "Anyway, I should get going. There's a shipment of books coming in and I promised I'd help."

Once his brother was gone, Ed shut himself in the study and winced, rubbing his shoulder. They hadn't been sparring hard, but his back still felt bruised from that last move.

They'd been sparring in an attempt to clear their heads. They were both more rattled by this morning than either of them wanted to admit, even to each other. It wasn't as if the Gate and what lay beyond it was a taboo subject, but that didn't mean it was one they enjoyed.

Edward sighed heavily as he dropped into his desk chair. For him, there were additional reasons not to bring it up. Al might have lost more that first time, and so theoretically gained more knowledge, but Ed had been in and out of the Gate so many times it might as well have been a fucking revolving door. It was impossible to pass through Truth's realm without being affected, and what he'd gained this last time . . . he'd really like to give back.

Ed lifted his hands and stared at them, then pressed his mismatched palms together. How many times had he done that without noticing? Without ever _caring_? Ever since _that_ night, his alchemy had been like his automail—a tool that had started out foreign, but was now an integral part of his body. A clap and a thought, that's all it took.

He dropped his hands to the desk and leaned forward, staring at the paper-cluttered surface without seeing it. Al and Roy had both noticed his reluctance to do alchemy. He was sure it wouldn't be long before one or the other of them cornered him and demanded an explanation. What the hell would he tell them?

_Alchemy is fueled by souls, you see. Human souls_.

Al would be horrified. Roy was a practical man, and more jaded than Al, but he wouldn't be happy. And they both loved alchemy; Ed didn't want to taint that for them.

_It's not like the Stone_ , he could see himself reasoning. _Nobody had to be murdered for alchemy to work. These are people who died in the normal course of their lives_. It was why he could do research, why he could watch someone else perform alchemy without cringing. Nobody had died _for_ alchemy. Energy was energy, right?

Except that it wasn't. Not for him.

His eyes were drawn to the ashtray that held the scant handful of coins that had been in his pocket the last time he'd gone through the Gate. They were nothing more than play-money here; not that they'd been worth much more back in their native country, thanks to inflation. Still, aside from his journals and a few beat-up photographs, they were the only tangible thing he had from that other world. Otherwise, all he had were memories of places and people that were not quite the ones from his childhood.

But he'd come back with something intangible as well. Whether it was Truth's last joke on him, or just an effect of having gone through the Gate so many times, he didn't know.

The mind was what made a person an individual. The soul was just energy that animated the body and linked the body and the mind. Once freed, it should be nothing more than simple energy. Generic.

It should.

The shrill cry of the phone made Ed jump, and scattered his morbid thoughts back to their dark corners. "Shit," he muttered as he pushed himself to his feet. "Fucking irritating machine. Ought to hook it up to an audio recorder somehow so I don't have to answer it." Although he had to admit—if only to himself—that at the moment, he was grateful for the distraction.

The downstairs phone—for some reason, Roy's status meant they also had one upstairs, right by the bed, which Ed considered two phones too many—was on a small table just outside the kitchen. He happened to glance through the doorway as he reached for the phone—and stopped, staring. Open cabinet, overturned garbage bag, food scraps, wrappers, cans and fuck knew what else strewn across the kitchen floor—and one small, guilty-looking grey-and-white cat standing in the middle of it.

Magpie jumped back from the garbage bag with a chirpy meow, dancing in place for a moment and looking very pleased with himself.

"What the—you little _shit_ —" Forgetting the phone for the moment, Ed dove after the miserable excuse for a cat. Magpie darted between his legs, misjudged, and collided with his right shin. Ed stumbled into the table, while the cat went skittering into a chair, then darted into the living room. "Shit!"

The phone was still ringing. Ed stumbled back from the table and into the doorframe, and snatched at the receiver. " _What_??"

There was a brief moment of silence, and then an amused voice said, "Hello to you, too, Ed."

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Breda. Shit. Sorry."

"Did I call at a bad time?"

"No. No, it's—you probably saved the cat from getting strangled, actually." He glared as the feline delinquent slinked out from behind the couch and darted to the safety of the cat door.

"See, that's why I don't hold much stock with pets. They're more trouble than they're worth."

Ed grinned. "Oh yeah? You mean it's not because you're deathly afraid of dogs?"

"Bite me."

He snickered, dropping down into the nearby easy chair. "Sure. Anyway, if you're looking for Roy, he's still at the office."

"I figured he would be, but I had a moment, and I wanted to keep this unofficial."

"Oh? Something you didn't want to use military lines for?"

"It's nothing big, so don't go jumping to conclusions. I guess my last CO put in a good word for me before he retired, because now I have an opportunity to be transferred to East."

Ed sat up a little straighter at that. "Really? That'd be great!"

"It wouldn't be under Mustang, though, not directly. I'd be under Lieutenant Colonel Phillips."

"Phillips is all right. Oh—he's supposed to be keeping an eye on Roy and all, but he let us know."

Breda made a startled noise. "Wouldn't that violate his orders? Observations are usually supposed to be done covertly."

Ed grinned. "I should say he let _me_ know, indirectly. He knew damn well I was listening, though."

"And that it was a pretty good bet you'd tell Mustang. Huh. I wonder what his game is."

"Dunno. He's not really chatty. Roy thinks he's all right, though."

"Yeah? Hm . . . this might work out. . . ."

"I'm surprised they're letting any of you anywhere near Roy."

"It surprises me, too. That's something else I wanted to bring up. I gotta go, though—let Mustang know about this, and if I have the time I'll try to talk to him tonight."

"Yeah, okay."

"Thanks Ed."

He hung up the phone and tapped a finger against it, thoughtfully. It didn't come up much, but he knew Roy missed his old office staff. And if this meant the Brass were starting to ease up on their hard-assed attitude, that was even better.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Magpie starting to creep across the living room and glared. The cat froze, then sprinted the rest of the way across the room and up the stairs. "Fucking cat," he muttered as he got up and reluctantly headed for the kitchen. He wished Al _had_ been the one to bring the little grey demon home; then Ed could leave him the mess.


	13. Chapter 11

"‹She is fairly confident she knows 'who,' now. The problem seems to be in working with him.›"

The twelfth son of Xing's emperor leaned back against the window frame and regarded the minor diplomat. "‹Is she certain this is the person who was responsible for that town in the desert?›"

The man shook his head. "‹No. But he was involved, and he's strong. He was quite well known for his alchemy a few years ago.›"

He hesitated, and Ling sighed. "‹But . . .?›" he prompted.

"‹Understand that I'm hardly in the princess's confidence. This is from my own observations.›" He seemed to consider a moment more, then said, "‹Those brothers, the Elrics, have been meeting with Princess Mei for a week now. Both of them seem eager to learn about our _rentan jutsu_ , and are willing to talk about their own alchemy, but as far as I can tell, only the younger brother has done any transmutations. Seems the elder only wants to talk theory and get into arguments with the princess.›"

The prince folded his arms and gave the diplomat a smile that clearly said "tell me why I should care."

The other man sighed. "‹This goes against his reputation,›" he tried to explain. "‹He also seems to have a reluctance about certain subjects, although I haven't been able to determine which. I only know that the princess has expressed some confusion and frustration over it. I get the feeling that there are some things she's afraid to talk about too directly.›"

Ling tapped a foot against the windowsill. "‹I wonder how much longer that will last. By all accounts, my father's seventeenth daughter is not known for her patience or her even temper. I doubt she'll tolerate something she sees as a roadblock.›"

"‹I agree. But, at the moment, this Edward is the best lead she has.›"

"‹Edward Elric . . .›" he mused, letting one foot swing against the wall. "‹I've come across the name myself. A prodigy. There were some who said he could do just about anything.›"

"‹He's smart; both brothers are. They've been keeping even Princess Mei on her toes.›"

"‹Well well.›" He chuckled. "‹From my understanding, that's not easy to do. I wonder . . . what could have spooked this Edward so much that he no longer transmutes.›"

"‹I believe he was missing for several years, but that's something else he won't talk about. Who knows what happened in that time.›"

"‹Indeed.›" Ling shrugged, then pushed himself into a crouch on the windowsill. "‹For the moment, I'm content to let Princess Mei tease out this knot. It may be all she needs is information. Ah.›" he paused. "‹I assume the diplomatic relations are still going in her favor.›"

"‹Yes, but the princess spends little time on that herself. She leaves that to the diplomats. Although,›" he added, "‹I believe the Amestrian's mother has a fair amount of influence in both matters.›"

"‹I suspected as much.›" Ling raised a hand in farewell to the diplomat, then swung himself out the window and onto the roof.

Ran Fan, his loyal bodyguard, attendant, and aide, met him on the rooftop, respectfully silent behind her mask.

"‹For now, we wait,›" he told her. They jumped across to another roof and slid down to the alley. "‹I'm more than happy to let Mei do the bulk of the work.›"

* * *

Roy sat back in his chair and regarded Marcus as the lieutenant shifted and cleared his throat for the third time. The other man clearly wanted an excuse to break eye contact, but Roy wasn't about to give it to him just yet. "I consider the wellbeing of my subordinates to be a high priority," he continued. "That includes their mental and emotional wellbeing. After all, an office is like a machine, and it only runs as well as its parts."

"Yes, sir."

"I would hate to hold you back if you think your talents could be better applied elsewhere."

"No, sir. I . . . appreciate the thought. Sir."

He watched his aide fidget for a moment or two more, then said, "Then unless there's anything you'd like to add, Lieutenant, we're done here."

"No, sir. I have nothing to add."

"Very well. Dismissed."

Marcus stood and saluted, stone-faced, then left.

Roy sighed and rubbed his temples. So much for the quarterly reviews; he really hadn't appreciated just how spoiled he'd been with his previous staff. It would make his life easier if Marcus would simply _ask_ for a transfer, but for some reason Roy couldn't fathom the lieutenant seemed determined to stay on. It didn't exactly make him comfortable, but for the moment there was nothing he could do about it.

He turned back to his desk, gathering up the paperwork for the reviews and tucking it into its folder before setting it aside. What else needed his attention today?

Liore; they were still waiting for a firm word from a few key soldiers. That situation might need a nudge or two, but they couldn't push too hard, too quickly, or they risked losing what little ground they had. In a couple more days and he should have more intelligence on that.

The Ishval settlement; a couple of low-ranking officers were caught harassing the Ishvalans. Roy signed off on the transfer request and penning in a _suggestion_ that the commander keep better tabs on his subordinates. The last thing the Ishvalans needed was more grief from the military; if he didn't think it would cause greater problems down the road, Roy would remove the military presence from that area altogether.

Yousewell; a report from the lieutenant stationed there complained that the miners were being uncooperative—again. They weren't _actually_ breaking any laws, though, so there wasn't much he could do.

Budget requests; building permits; repairs; leave requests; complaints about the cafeteria—the road to hell was paved with paperwork, surely.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. "Come in."

Lieutenant Colonel Phillips, a man just into his forties with greying hair and a careworn face, saluted briefly before coming to the desk and handing his superior a folder. "The completed forms for the transfer, sir."

"Ah, good." Roy flipped open the paperwork and nodded when he saw Breda's name at the top of the form.

"Sir, if I may?"

"Yes?"

The older man hesitated a moment. "I'm aware of the loyalty of your former staff. If you'll forgive me—I can't help but wonder if Lieutenant Breda is still your man."

Roy allowed himself a small smile. "The lieutenant is a good soldier. I admit that I considered him a friend as well as a subordinate, but I would never presume to pit that against his present duties."

"I see."

"I'm sure you'll find Lieutenant Breda to be an excellent subordinate and a fine addition to your staff."

"I'm sure I will," Phillips said, with a somewhat ironic smile. "Oh, by the way, I gave Major Carter permission to work with the Xingian alchemists, as his duties permit. I know the Elric brothers have been over there quite a bit, I hope the major's presence won't be a bother."

"Not at all; in fact, I suspect they could use the fresh perspective."

* * *

"I know where the fucking thing _is_ , that's not the problem!"

Mei slapped the ground in frustration. "If you knew, then you could find the _qi_ lines!"

Yu sighed. "Edward-san, I'm not sure you quite understand the concept of the Yellow Court—"

"Oh, I understand it," the young man snapped. Something in his glare added, _better than you do_. Only the temperance that came with age kept Yu from rising to meet such an arrogant challenge.

Mei, just as impetuous and hot-tempered as the boy in front of her, jumped to her feet. With a quick flick of her hands her blades were at the ready between her fingers. "You say you understand the _huang-ting_?"

Edward leapt up and tensed, but the knives were aimed elsewhere. They _thunk_ ed into the side of a building about ten feet away, marking out the points of a pentagram. With a sixth knife Mei scratched a corresponding array onto the cement at her feet. "Prove it." She jabbed at the array. "If you know the _huang-ting_ so well, then use this _qi_ line!"

That wasn't entirely fair of the princess; finding one's center was only the beginning. But Yu held her tongue.

Edward glared at the princess for a moment longer, then stalked over to the array and knelt. He looked between it and the knives, then set his fingers to the edge of the lines.

Yu could only imagine what was going on in the young man's head as she watched his expression change from concentration to frustration and finally to annoyance. "Fuck," he said at last, sitting back on his heels. "How do I even know you set it up right?"

Mei touched a hand to the array, and light flared between the knives. A moment later the wall was sporting a glaring caricature with an extended tongue. "If you knew your center so well as you claim, then you wouldn't have questioned."

The boy snarled. "Fucking—this is crazy. If this _qi_ shit doesn't come from the Gate, then what the hell does _it_ have to do with—" he gestured between the two marks, "— _that_? Knowing where the damn thing is doesn't mean anything!"

"You say that with a great deal of confidence," Yu commented. "Especially for someone who first learned of the _huang-ting_ barely a week ago." Gold eyes snapped to hers, wary. "Perhaps this _confidence_ is blinding you." She leaned forward in her chair, resting her arms on her knees. "Or should I say 'arrogance'?"

He snorted. "You Xingians don't have a monopoly on the Gate, y'know."

"Perhaps not," she allowed. "But I meant your assumption that you could pick up, in a matter of days, what it takes our masters years of study and meditation to learn. But that's the arrogance of youth, I suppose."

He scowled. "I'm not some _kid_ —"

"Aren't you? You're intelligent, and clever, I give you that. Yet you seem to expect that to take the place of hard work. You assume there is nothing you do not already know or could easily understand—and _that_ is the thinking of a child."

Edward shot to his feet. "What the hell do you know—"

Yu stood as well, eye to eye with the fuming blond. "I know you're presumptive—"

"Half my life I've done nothing _but_ work hard—"

"And yet it seems to have taught you nothing."

"It taught me to keep close to my family," he snapped. "Something _you_ don't seemed to've learn."

She narrowed her eyes and set her hands on her hips, unwilling to show how much the barb had stung. "Has it? I suppose you should be congratulated, then, for that singular lesson—"

"Coming from someone who _abandoned_ her son when he was fourteen," he snarled, "no _thank_ you."

There was a heartbeat of silence, before Yu said, calmly, "Shall I suppose, then, that every decision you've had to make has been clear-cut and without conflict—at _your_ age, I shouldn't be surprised."

He sliced a hand—his right—through the air between them, and Yu flinched in spite of herself. "Old lady, you know _shit_ about my life."

"So enlighten this old woman."

"Look—" The young man stopped abruptly, gloved hands clenched into fists, and breathed hard through his nose—in, then out. "Fuck this," he spat. With that he turned on his heel and stalked across the courtyard.

Mei was watching her with incredulousness and not a little ire. "‹Yu! What—what was _that_ about?›"

The older woman took a breath, and let it out slowly. "‹Well,›" she reasoned, watching the blond youth disappear around one of the buildings, "‹if he is determined to be angry, better he be angry with _me_.›"

"‹Yes, but—I need him!›"

"‹I don't think you need to worry about him not coming back, Princess.›" She took another breath and dropped her hands, finally turning to the young woman. "‹He wants something.›"

Mei frowned in consideration, looking after the Amestrian alchemist. "‹What, do you think?›"

"‹Separating chimera, for one.›"

"‹Chimera?›"

She nodded. "‹But I can't help but wonder if there isn't something else, as well.›" She returned to her chair, and contemplated the scrolls the younger two had been discussing.

She knew she hadn't been fair to Edward; from all of Roy's descriptions, the young man was nothing if not dedicated and persistent. But she had gotten the impression that he had been reining in around her, and she couldn't help but try and test him. His age, it seemed—or at least maturity—seemed to be a sore point. Rather in the vein of one who protests too much, it seemed to her. _He_ is _still a child_ , she insisted to herself. _At the very least, he has the temper of a child_.

"Umm. . . ." Yu looked up to find Alphonse standing at the far end of the courtyard, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I just passed my brother . . . did something happen? I'm sorry. His temper. . . ."

She smiled and stood, gesturing to bring the youth over. "It was nothing, Alphonse-kun. Really."

"He doesn't always express things right—his mouth runs away without his sense. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"You seem to have appointed yourself your brother's keeper," Yu observed, as the boy stopped in front of her.

"What? No, it's nothing like that. Sometimes it's just better to apologize for him then to leave it to him to deal—um. Wow, that sounds bad." He scratched the back of his head again, hazel eyes cloudy with uneasiness. "It's just . . . Nii-san doesn't always come off well."

"Oh, I'd say your brother expresses himself quite clearly."

Alphonse made a troubled noise and looked off to one side.

"For brothers, you seem very different," Mei commented.

"Oh, we're not, really. We're actually a lot alike," he insisted. "But siblings aren't always similar—you have a lot of siblings don't you? Are they like you?"

The princess shrugged, stooping to pick up Xiao Mei. "Whether they are or not, I couldn't say. I haven't had much interaction with them."

"Really? Your own brothers and sisters?"

"As children of the emperor, we are . . . in competition over certain things."

"Oh. I . . . see." Although he clearly didn't.

"The emperor and his children are not a typical family," Yu tried to explain.

"I see." He scratched the side of his nose and smiled in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, it's just hard for me to imagine. Our family was so small, and we've always been close."

"You and your brother seem to be," Yu mused. "But I got the impression that wasn't the case with your father."

"He was gone for a long time," the boy allowed, shifting uneasily. "It wasn't because he didn't care, he just—um—it's a long story."

"What about your mother?"

He grinned, his whole face lighting up. "Oh, our mother was wonderful! She was so kind. . . ." His expression shifted into something wistful. "She died when we were young . . . but she was wonderful."

"I'm sorry, Alphonse-kun. I didn't mean. . . ."

He was shaking his head, honey-colored ponytail swinging behind him. "No, it's all right! It was a long time ago. Nii-san and I have always had each other, and the Rockbells, and we've made so many good friends since then—we've never been alone. We miss her, of course—and our father—but we've never been alone."

She had to smile. "I'm glad to hear that." These boys seemed like such polar opposites; despite Alphonse's insistence, she was having a hard time seeing much similarity between them.


	14. Chapter 12

"I'm sure it's not as bad as all that."

Roy raised an eyebrow at the statement and the muffled response it got. Intrigued, he finished hanging up his coat and headed for the kitchen.

"Well, just what did you say, then?"

Ed's answer was lost to the circle of his arms.

"What's happened now?" Roy inquired from the doorway.

Alphonse waved a spatula at his older brother. "Ask him."

Ed banged his forehead against the table and mumbled something into his arms again.

"Come again?"

The blond groaned and hunched in on himself.

Roy leaned back against the table and reached over to brush the messy bangs aside. One eye cracked open, and grimaced up at him.

Ed sighed. "I yelled at your mom," he said with obvious reluctance.

"Is that all? I'm actually surprised it's taken this long."

He jerked his head up with a scowl. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Roy withdrew his hand. "Ed—Love—you yell at _everyone_. And . . ." he sighed. "I love my mother, but she has a way of pushing people's buttons. It's— _ow_!" He frowned and rubbed the spot where Ed's fist had connected with his thigh. "Just what was _that_ for?"

"Because now I know where _you_ get it from."

"My father was no slouch at it, either," he muttered. "It was quite something when they'd quarrel. But I still don't see why that's any reason to hit _me_."

"I told him it wasn't that big of a deal," Al said as he turned off the burners. "She didn't really seem that upset about it."

Roy kept an eye on his lover as they ate. For someone who tended to lose his temper at the drop of a hat, he seemed inordinately bothered by what sounded like a simple argument. After the third or fourth grimace Ed directed at the food, the older man finally tapped his foot against his lover's automail leg to get his attention.

Ed blinked up from the food he'd been pushing around and frowned. "What?"

"That's my question. Why are you so upset about it?"

He turned back to his plate and shrugged. "Just . . . don't think I should be yelling at her. I mean," he shoved a bit of chicken into his mouth, "she's y'r _mom_."

"Uh-huh." Roy bit into a piece of broccoli and waited.

"'Nd I kinda. . . ." He finished the bite. "Kinda . . . said something I shouldn't've."

"Oh?"

Ed grimaced again and tried to hide behind his water glass.

Al sighed and shook his head. "Nii-san, if it's bothering you that much, why don't you go apologize?"

The glass banged back down to the table. "She thinks of me as a _kid_ ," he spat. "Some sort of fucking idealistic _child_."

Roy winced. There was no denying that Ed was an odd mix of maturity and immaturity. While he personally thought the balance tipped to the mature side, he forgot sometimes just how much louder the immaturity could be. Even so, it didn't seem that his mother was being particularly fair. "For what it's worth, I suspect she's seeing what she wants to see."

"Why would she _want_ me to be a child?"

"Maybe 'want' isn't the right word. But it's what she _expects_ to see."

The young man's mouth twisted as he glanced over at his lover. "Why? Just 'cause I'm younger than you?"

Roy set his fork down and folded his arms against the table. "Take a moment and look at our relationship from the outside. Imagine the same situation, but with two people you don't know. What might your first thought be?"

Ed scowled at the table for a moment, then shoved a hand through his hair. "Fuck. It's so _stupid_. You can't judge someone just by their _age_."

"You're expecting people to be rational. Rather ironic, coming from you."

He couldn't help but smirk through the wince as Ed's fist connected with his shoulder. "Fuck off, bastard."

"The point still stands," he said as he rubbed his shoulder. "Mother still doesn't _know_ you. It's going to take time."

* * *

Yu hummed to herself as she straightened the room at the embassy that was considered hers. It was busy-work, really, but it helped clear her mind.

Just why was Edward so determined—almost desperate—to learn pharmacy? Did he see his own alchemy as somehow not good enough? Or was it something else?

And just what was this "Gate" he kept referring to?

She had no more answers now than she had had at the beginning of the day, but thinking about these questions kept her from worrying over other things.

Such as why her son had chosen a boy a decade and a half his junior to be his romantic partner.

"‹Hel-looo!›"

Yu dropped the rag in her hand and spun, knocking several books to the floor in the process. She resisted the urge to press herself back against the shelf as she took in the figure sitting calmly on the windowsill.

"‹Sorry to drop in so late,›" the young man said with a cheerful smile. "‹I was passing by and thought I might ask you a few things.›"

"‹Ling of the Yao clan,›" she muttered.

His smile broadened as he slid to the floor. "‹Ah! You know me, then?›"

"‹The prince has quite the reputation,›" she replied. Yu wasn't familiar with all of the emperor's many children, but Ling was ambitious and cunning. Of all her siblings, Mei considered him the biggest threat.

"‹We can skip the pleasantries, then.›" The prince adopted a causal pose against the wall, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"‹What do you mean by coming here?›" she asked, feigning a calm she didn't feel. "‹You can't mean to challenge Mei outright.›"

"‹Of course not. Our dear father frowns on fighting between his children.›"

"‹Why come talk to me?›"

"‹I thought we might be able to help each other.›"

"‹I will tell you now, my loyalties lie with the Chang clan.›"

A fingernail tapped against the sword pommel, and his smile took on a calculating edge. "‹Ah yes. Your father's family legacy, isn't it?›"

"‹And mine.›"

He shrugged. "‹Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Mei or the Chang clan. Our goals just happen to . . . clash a little bit.›"

"‹You're in competition.›"

"‹Not directly. Mei is thinking only of her clan. I want what is best for all of Xing.›"

"‹Meaning you on the throne.›"

"‹I can hardly do what's best if I have no power.›"

"‹And what does that have to do with this old woman?›"

He regarded her for a moment, smile still in place. "‹I want what is best for Xing,›" the prince repeated. "‹Despite marrying an Amestrian, I assume you still have some affection for your birth-country.›" Yu stayed silent. "‹You're in a rather unique position in this embassy.›"

"‹I told you what my loyalties are.›"

"‹I respect those loyalties. I do.›" He looked so sincere that Yu almost believed him. Almost. "‹I would never ask someone to betray their true loyalties.›"

Something in the way he said that made Yu narrowed her eyes. "‹What is it you want, Prince of the Yao clan?›" she said in measured tones.

"‹Tell me,›" he said, deceptively casual as he drew his blade and dug under his fingernails with the tip, "‹does Mei know what it is she seeks?›"

"‹How could she seek it if she did not know it?›"

He waved the sword in a shrug. "‹Oh, people do that sort of thing all the time. When I left Xing, one of our brothers was heading up to the high mountains, chasing after a dream-vision—or a drunk vision. Either way, all he's likely to find is . . . precarious terrain.›"

"‹You're sure of that, are you?›"

He laughed, shouldering his sword and favoring her with a seemingly innocent grin. "‹How could I be? I'm here in Amestris. I only mean that the mountains are known to be treacherous. Especially if one doesn't plan ahead properly.›" He regarded her for a moment. "‹Mei is not so reckless as our sixth brother. I don't believe she would have come all the way here without a firm goal in mind.›"

"‹Be that as it may, I am merely a simple advisor. What would make you think that I am in the princess' confidence?›"

"‹A 'simple advisor' who is not as bound by traditions and loyalties as she claims. One who is in a very unique—and _enviable_ position.›" Ling flicked the tip of the blade, using it to illustrate his words. "‹There are several lines of power here. The military; the Chang clan; two of the strongest alchemist alive today; and another, more subtle thread. Those lines wrap and weave and mingle, but they all converge at the same point.›" He leveled the blade at her, the tip barely a hand's span from her face. Yu bit her tongue to keep from flinching, glaring past the blade to the smiling young man behind it. "‹Despite your words, you are a free agent, Yu _Mustang_. You could nudge those lines any way you—›"

" _Hey_!!"

She flinched back and collided with the bookcase as another figure shoved in front of her. She stared wide-eyed at the blond ponytail that was suddenly and inch from her nose, noticing only peripherally that Ling had snatched his sword back barely an instant before Edward's fist had closed around the blade.

The prince eyed the smaller man coolly. "This is not your affair—"

"Oh yeah?" The snarl was clear in his voice. "Well, keep your 'affairs'—" he clapped, "—away from _my family_." Alchemy flared; when the light faded, there was a good sized blade extending from Ed's right sleeve. He dropped into a defensive crouch, holding the weapon out in front of him. "Got that?"

He'd transmuted part of his automail; the metal hand was clenched in a fist beneath the blade. For a long, tense moment, no one moved. The two young men squared off, neither one overtly threatening the other, but ready to attack or defend. Yu pressed herself against the bookshelf and tried not to breathe, looking from Edward's broad, tense shoulders to Ling's lithe and deceptively relaxed form.

She couldn't say, afterwards, which of them had moved first. Only that one instant they were eyeing each other, and the next they had crashed together with a hideous screech of metal against metal.

They sprang apart—Edward fell back into a defensive posture in front of her, while Ling landed near the window. The prince smiled, a calculating look—then leapt forward.

The smaller man met him head on, deflecting the blade with his forearm and then returning the strike with one of his own, causing the prince to dodge back to keep from getting his nose clipped.

Yu edged along the bookshelf until she could press herself against the wall, never taking her eyes from the two figures in the center of the room, locked in a dance of strikes and blocks. Ling had the advantage of height and his weapon allowed for more dexterity, but Edward wasn't giving an inch of ground. His movements were artless, but sure, his attacks straightforward and guileless compared to the prince's grace, but he was agile and, clearly, experienced. It was like watching a fight between a panther and a wolf.

Ling flicked his sword around, evading Ed's block to come in underneath. Yu gasped, sure that the blond boy wouldn't be able to evade in time—when Ed's arm twisted in a way that wasn't quite human, and caught the blade.

He wrenched the sword from Ling's grip and flung it across the room. With a grin that made him look quite wolf-like indeed, he swung his arm-blade back around—

—As a shadow slithered in through the window. Yu cried out a warning, too late, as a slender blade appeared against Edward's throat.

Ling shrugged, sauntering over to retrieve his sword. "You'll have to forgive Ran Fan. She can be a bit . . . I believe the phrase is 'trigger happy'?"

". . . Uh- _huh_." He was frozen in place, but the emotion radiating off his tense frame wasn't fear. She got the feeling that he was an instant away from lunging at the attacker, knife be damned.

At a signal from the prince, the masked bodyguard stepped back, the blade vanishing from sight. Edward scowled between the two figures, but lowered his arm blade and stepped back. Not to gain distance from them, Yu realized, but to better guard _her_. She found herself relaxing slightly behind his reassuring presence.

"Well, this is somewhat awkward," Ling said as he made a show of sheathing his sword. He returned to the center of the room and favored the other young man with a brilliant smile. "Let's try this again: I'm Ling, of the Yao clan, the emperor's twelfth son."

"One of Mei's siblings," Edward muttered.

"If you like. Before our little . . . _misunderstanding_ here, the lady Yu and I were just discussing that very relationship, among other things."

Yu cleared her throat. "I believe we were finished _discussing_ ," she said, grateful and more than a little amazed that her voice held steady. "I gave you my answer."

Ling regarded them from behind his smile for a long moment. "Very well. In that case, I'll bid you both good evening."

The prince walked to the window and sprang lightly to the sill, pausing to raise a hand in acknowledgement before disappearing into the shadows of the courtyard. His bodyguard followed with much less ceremony.

There was a heartbeat or two of silence—which Edward then broke by exclaiming, "What the _fuck_ was that about?"

Yu took a deep breath, peeling herself away from the wall. "I'm . . . not entirely sure."

"What did he—"

"One moment." She held up a finger as she crossed to the window. "There may be eaves-hangers."

"Um—you mean 'eavesdroppers.'"

Bracing a hand on casement, she leaned out, twisting around to peer up at the overhang. "Not in this case."

When he leaned out with her, she pointed to the scuff marks on the wooden beams. "Well—shit."

"Mm. They're likely gone, but just in case. . . ." She straightened, pressing a hand to her chest and taking another deep breath. "Besides, I need— _something_. Tea. I should get some tea." She realized how close she was to babbling and pressed her lips together.

The muffled sound of Ed clapping made her jump. "There's something going on over by the kitchen, I heard it when I passed by." He touched his metal forearm, and Yu noticed an odd grimace cross his face as the blade dissolved back into the automail.

She exhaled audibly. "Well. That seems a bit . . . convenient. I had wondered why no one had come inquiring about the noise." She pushed some loose strands of hair back from her face and shook her head. "Never mind. There is a smaller area we can use."

The little kitchenette was part of the suite of rooms Mei used, but the princess wasn't in residence and Yu didn't think she would mind. Besides, Yu had a feeling she'd be talking with the princess before the evening was out.

The young man watched her with open concern as she set about heating water and preparing the teapot. "You sure you're all right?"

Yu gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just rattled." Frowning, she added, "Which I think was his intent."

"He was threatening you," he growled. The obvious protectiveness startled her.

"Edward—don't think me ungrateful—because, believe me, I am—but, what are you doing here? At this late hour?"

"Oh." He cleared his throat and glanced away, one hand drifting up to scratch his hair. "I, uh, kinda . . . came to apologize."

She was staring, she knew she was, but her system had already had too many shocks this evening to deal with something so seemingly out of character.

A scowl flicked across the boy's face. "Look, I'm not saying it was my _fault_ , I just. . . ." He was staring intently at one of the cabinets. "I shouldn't've . . . said that."

The shrill whistle of the kettle shook her out of her daze and she blinked, turning back to the stove. "I wouldn't say it was entirely your fault, either," she admitted, turning off the heat and flicking open the kettle's spout.

"Hm."

The smirk that briefly pulled at his mouth had a definite smug arrogance about it. _Little shit_ , she found herself thinking, though with a surprising amount of fondness.

"Still," he continued, his expression sobering, "I shouldn't've . . . said what I said."

She finished pouring the water, then reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "I apologize as well."

The grin he flashed was warm and unguarded, and she couldn't help but return with a smile of her own.

Edward jerked his head toward the courtyard. "So what did that Ling guy want? I didn't think there were any more of the emperor's kids with the embassy."

"There aren't," she confirmed. "I don't know when Prince Ling arrived here, but he came on his own." Yu chewed her lip and tapped a fingernail against the counter as she thought. "I'm not sure what he wanted. I know what he _said_ , but . . . I can't see what he thinks he will gain by frightening me."

"You sure he was just trying to frighten you?"

"I believe so. By all accounts, Ling of the Yao clan is not a cruel person. Ruthless, perhaps, and definitely cunning. Unpredictable, maybe. But not cruel. There is nothing to be gained by harming me."

The young man scowled. "I still don't like it."

"Mm." She grabbed two cups and the teapot and motioned to the small table.

Simply pouring the tea and having the warm cup in her hands did much to calm her frayed nerves. She stared at the dance of steam and tried to put her thoughts in order.

Surprisingly, Edward sat and waited quietly. Yu glanced over at the metal fingers that were resting lightly against the delicate porcelain, then to the sleeve that had been torn by the prince's blade. Now that she was looking for it, she could see the unnatural shape of the arm beneath the fabric. She looked away from the prosthetic, to the gold eyes that were watching her with open concern.

"This is going to take some explaining," she finally started. "Xingian politics are . . . complicated."

His eyebrows, always slightly angled, drew down in the middle. "Okay . . . Roy told me some, but. . . ."

"Let me give you a brief overview." She sipped her tea. "Many generations ago, Xing wasn't a single nation but many small, warring nation-states. Borders shifted constantly, but loyalties were firm. The nations didn't even speak the same language." She shook her head. "They still don't. The first emperor of Xing united the nations by force. Many resented him for it. The ruling families of those nation-states became what are today the major clans. Loyalty to the emperor and to all of Xing is supposed to supersede all else, but loyalties to those clans are still strong.

"When a new emperor takes power, he is given a wife by each clan. You've notice that his children all use the name of their mother clan?"

"Yeah, I guess. I thought that was just how it was done over there."

She shook her head. "Not at all. Xing is very patriarchal, much more than Amestris. A woman is expected to cut ties with her birth family when she gets married. My continued closeness to my sister and her family is very unusual."

"Huh."

"The emperor's children, however, are much more loyal to their mother clans than to their father-emperor."

He sipped his tea and seemed to mull over this. "All right, so Mei and this Ling guy are from rival clans."

"Mm, but there's a bit more to it than that. You see, the succession is not a sure thing. Mei comes from one of the least powerful clans, and is female, and so has much less chance than many of her siblings. What she wants is to raise her clan's standing. Ling, on the other hand, has a decent shot at being named the heir."

"Okay. . . ."

"I'm not certain of the subtleties myself. But they are both looking for an edge, and are, at least indirectly, in competition."

"What does that have to do with you?"

Yu sighed, and sipped her tea. "My family—my father's family—had been loyal to the Chang clan for generations. However . . . my father had no sons. Just my sister and me. By Xing tradition, any ties to the Chang clan died with my father." She took another sip. "What's more, by tradition, when a woman gets married, she leaves the family of her birth and becomes part of her husband's family. Completely."

"And you married an Amestrian," he said, slowly.

She nodded. "By custom and by law, I am an Amestrian who happens to have been born in Xing. Ling was simply . . . _reminding_ me that, by that reasoning, I am a free agent."

He studied her for a moment. "It's never that simple."

"No. No matter what tradition dictates, I am still loyal to the Chang clan. Even if I wasn't, at this point I would be loyal to Mei."

"Would Ling know that?"

"He could have guessed it. He knew a great deal of other things about me."

He spread his hands out around his cup, gloved flesh and naked metal making a strange dark mirror of each other. "Okay, so, you can do what you want. Technically. What does it matter?" He paused, briefly. "Ling wants something, or he wouldn't've come here like this."

"I agree. He wants me to help him—at least, that is what he said." She frowned down at the table, drumming her fingers against her cup. "But it can't be that simple." There were several things about Ling's visit that bothered her, but her thoughts were still too scattered to make sense of anything. All she knew was that it didn't add up.

"Fuckin' politics." Edward shoved his hands through his bangs. "Why does everything have so much _politics_."

Her eyes were drawn to the automail again as it fell back down to the table. She hesitated, then gave in, and made a gesture toward it. "This is . . . rather forward of me, but—may I?"

"Huh? Oh." He shrugged and held out the hand. "Sure."

She took the metal hand between her own and turned it over, nudging the fingers closed, then open. The palm wasn't solid, as she's assumed, but segmented to allow the hand to fold more naturally. There was some intricacy in the first joint of the fingers that allowed them to fan instead of simply moving forward and back. The workings of the thumb were completely beyond her understanding. "Remarkable," she said, turning the hand over to examine the back.

"Yeah," Ed agreed with a half-smile. "Winry does good work."

"That young woman is the one who made this?"

"Uh-huh." He fanned the fingers, then curled them with a faint clicking sound. The back plates slid against each other slightly as the hand tightened into a fist. "This arm is like her masterpiece or something. Guess that's why she's always trying to show it off."

Such as the afternoon of the demonstration.

Yu withdrew her hands. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't."

"Nah, it's all right." He waved the hand dismissively. "I don't really mind. It's just—Winry." He pulled a face. "When she gets to showing off my automail, she kinda forgets that I'm attached to it."

She smiled. "It sort of looked that way, yes."

According to her son's letters, Edward had had prosthetics since he was eleven or twelve years old; curiosity nibbled at her, and she wanted to ask, but she held off. "That arm must be quite useful, though," she said instead. "And I can see you have a lot of experience using it—you even held your own against Prince Ling, that was quite impressive."

His mouth twisted into a grimace. "I got lucky. He was feeling me out, and I caught him by surprise. I doubt I'd get that lucky a second time—I'm _really_ out of practice." He poked dubiously at his torn sleeve. "Gonna have to explain this to Roy when I get home, I know he's gonna ask. He'll probably freak out. . . ."

"Ah—actually, I think I'd prefer you not tell him, just yet."

He stared at her blankly for a second. Then burst out with, "I can't keep things from Roy."

"I understand your reluctance, but—"

"No, you don't get it." His arms waved, though she wasn't sure if it was to illustrate a point or from nervous energy. "I _can't_ keep things from him 'cause he always _knows_. It's like he can—I dunno—read my mind or something."

"—Um."

"He used to be able to tell what time of day I took a crap three towns over—"

"That was more than I wanted to know," she muttered.

"—I didn't mean it like—fuck, I don't even know how you took that." His arms dropped back to the table. "But if I try to keep something from him he'll _know_ —and he'll find some way to find out anyway."

"Edward." She reached across the table and took his hands. The metal felt alien under her fingers but she wrapped her hand around it anyway. "I'll tell him myself. I will. I just want to talk to Mei first." What she wanted was time to decide just what to tell him, but she kept that to herself.

He let out his breath in an audible sigh. "Well . . . all right. He's not gonna like me putting him off, though." One corner of his mouth pulled back into a smile. "He's really going to freak when he finds out, though. Probably want to hunt that Ling guy down. . . ."

"I'll have to see if I can dissuade him of that." She smiled and gave his hands a squeeze before pulling back. "This is mostly a Xingian matter. I don't want to involve Amestris any more than necessary."

He frowned at her, his concern returning. "Are you sure you'll be okay tonight?"

"I doubt Ling will be coming back. But even so," she continued, gesturing to the room beyond the kitchenette, "I'll stay with Mei tonight. Ling wouldn't attack her outright, and if someone else does—well, she's not one to be taken lightly."

"Hm."

She got the feeling that no amount of assurance would put him at ease. In a way, it was touching. "Truly, I'll be fine." She gestured to his sleeve. "You might trigger fewer questions if you fixed that."

"Oh." He poked at the tears again. "Yeah. I guess."

His reluctance made her remember the look on his face as he had fixed his arm, and she reached into her pocket for the piece of chalk she always carried with her. "Allow me?"

"Huh? Oh, okay."

He seemed all too willing to let someone else perform the alchemy. But instead of asking, like she wanted to, Yu merely smiled and sketched out the array.

It was not exactly a simple transmutation; torn fibers had very little "memory," and didn't always behave. Even if the threads did transmute back where they should, the fabric tended to be weaker in there. But she had gotten a fair amount of practice with this type of repair over the years, and in the end the torn sleeve at least looked as good as new.

"You're still short a glove, however," she commented as Ed inspected the mended garment. "I suppose that's back on the floor of my room somewhere."

"Probably," he agreed. "It's never worth trying to save those, anyway. They usually end up too far gone."

"You must go through a lot of gloves."

He smiled ruefully. "Well, not as many as I used to, at least. Al used to say we should find a way to buy gloves in bulk, except that then he'd be the one stuck carrying them around."

He sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. "I better be getting back, or Roy'll definitely think something's wrong."

"All right. I'll be fine here, honest."

Edward took a few steps toward the door, then paused. Yu looked up from smudging out her array to find him frowning thoughtfully.

"Look," he said. He turned back, and looked over to her with eyes that were far too old. "I know what it's like to be away from home—and away from family. I shouldn't've said that . . . 'cause I know that can't've been how it was."

They regarded each other for a long moment. Yu was stunned at how this boy could go from being an immature brat to someone who looked like he had carried the weight of the world. She finally sighed, and nodded. "It seems I am destined to miss either my home, or my son."

His hands slipped into his pockets. "Can't be easy to have to choose like that."

"No. It isn't."

He gave her crooked smile, which she returned, and then turned to leave.

Yu poured herself some more tea and waited for Mei.


	15. Chapter 13

Roy leaned against the back porch railing and watched the brothers spar. It was always a treat to watch them—he particularly enjoyed seeing Edward in action—but the rhythm of this match was different and it was making him uneasy. Ed was pushing, keeping Al on his toes and making him work for his win. This wasn't a work-out—this was training.

The question was _why_.

There was a soft bump against his leg, and he bent down to scratch Magpie's back. The kitten mrrped, then jumped onto the railing, giving the two figures in the yard a dubious look before settling down to grooming. Roy agreed with the sentiment.

Ed had been uneasy but strangely tight-lipped when he'd come in the night before. Roy had probed with a few leading questions but his answers had been evasive. He had so clearly not wanted to talk about whatever it was that Roy hadn't pressed. He did trust his lover to have sense enough not to withhold something truly important, so he could assume there was no imminent danger. He didn't seem to have gone and done something rash in the time Roy had been at work, so that was a good sign.

Even so, there _was_ danger—or there had been.

He narrowed his eye as he watched his young lover block an attack, and then launch a rapid series of strikes, his face grim with concentration. Ed's actions were those of warrior who had just realized he'd been gotten lax.

That in itself was not particularly worrisome. Ed's protective nature could shy into overprotectiveness at the slightest nudge. But the way he was keeping quiet sent up warning flags.

The rules of the game had been changed.

* * *

"‹With respect, Princess, what is it you hope to find?›"

Mei shook her head, pacing the length of the room before whipping around hard enough that her braids flew out behind her. "‹I don't know,›" she admitted, stalking back the other way. "‹But I can't just _sit_ here. Not now that I know _he's_ followed me here.›" She stopped in front of the table, frowning down at the map on its surface. "‹A transmutation that big must have left _some_ trace behind.›"

"‹ _Desert_ , Princess,›" Yu reminded her. "‹It reclaims its own.›"

"‹An array cannot be drawn in sand. Even if it's buried, there should be something left.›"

"‹Even so, what is it you hope to find?›" Yu repeated. "‹And I might remind you that frightening you into rash action may have been his intent.›"

"‹I know!›" She tugged on her hair in frustration. "‹But I can't do _nothing_!›"

Yu pressed her clasped hands to her mouth, staring down at the map beneath her elbows. She had been at this all day with the princess, and still felt no closer to understanding what had happened the night before. She sighed, resting her forehead against her fingers. "‹Forget him. What had you been planning to do? What would you be doing if Prince Ling hadn't shown up?›"

The young woman dropped into a chair and dropped her head to her hands. "‹I was already thinking of going to Liore. I'm getting nowhere!›" She shook her head, her braids dancing against the table. "‹Those brothers know something, I'm sure of it, but neither one will talk. The younger one is amiable most of the time, but even he avoids certain topics.›"

"‹So he does.›" Yu regarded the princess. Mei had not yet come out and named what she was after, but she thought that maybe the time for such evasiveness had passed. "‹And yet,›" she ventured, "‹I'm almost positive the crest they wear is an ancient symbol for the philosopher's stone.›"

Mei's eyes narrowed. Yu could see the shrewd calculation taking place behind the deceptively innocent features. "‹Tell me about that crest,›" she said slowly.

Yu did. She told her what she remembered reading in a centuries-old book that had come into her possession by chance. Then she explained the meanings of the individual components of the crest, as well as the alternative meanings that had lead her to the conclusion she stated. "‹They claim to have inherited it from their teacher›," she finished. "‹But I wonder if there isn't more to it than that.›"

"‹But it is an alchemy sigil?›"

"‹Definitely. Though I wouldn't know how to use it. The description I read was vague, ___and those two boys didn't seem too eager to talk about it. Something. . . .›" She paused, remembering. "‹There was something about it that bothered them.›"

Mei groaned, rubbing her forehead. "‹Which means neither one of them is likely to tell me anything. Damn!›" She thumped her head to the table. "‹Why does my only lead have to be so difficult?›"

Yu sighed, rubbing her temples. She shared the younger woman's frustration, though for different reasons. These boys were clearly an important part of her son's life. If she was going to have a chance of understanding _him_ , she needed to understand _them_ —particularly Edward. It shouldn't have been hard, they both seemed like open, straight-forward young men. But there was so much under the surface, so much she wasn't seeing.

She wasn't unaware that taking the side-route the Elrics presented was her way of avoiding what she _should_ be doing. But as difficult as those boys were to fathom, her son was even more so. She hardly knew where to start.

Further contemplation was cut short by a tentative knock. Her niece poked her head in and informed her Roy was waiting just outside.

Li Xue hesitated as she stepped aside, shooting her aunt an unreadable look. Yu raised an eyebrow, but the younger woman averted her gaze, motioning her out to the courtyard.

Her son was still in uniform, looking proper and intimidating as he leaned against a post at the edge of the open area. His smile when he saw her was warm enough, but there was a calculating look in his single eye that immediately put her on guard.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," he said. "I understand there was some excitement last night."

One corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "I suppose you could call it that."

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"No, not really." Not in the sense of anyone getting hurt, that is. She wasn't sure about the rest.

Yu folded her hands behind her back and stepped out into the courtyard. She had gotten caught up with Mei's end of things and hadn't thought this through as she would have liked.

Roy fell into step beside her. The evening light highlighted the planes of his face, emphasizing the calm yet attendant expression. She didn't think it wasn't genuine, but something about it seemed . . . calculated.

"I had an unexpected visitor last night," she started.

He made an affirmative noise and nodded. "Someone else has crossed the desert."

Yu paused in mid-step, raising an eyebrow at her son.

Roy chuckled as he turned to face her. "If this had involved an Amestrian, Fullmetal may have kept quiet about it as you requested, but he would have taken matters into his own hands. I assume the embassy party was chosen with _some_ care, so the most logical conclusion is that there's an extra." After a pause, he added, "One who is potentially dangerous, given Ed's state of agitation. Dangerous—but not an _immediate_ threat."

She pursed her lips. "Well. I hardly need to tell you anything. Edward did mention something about mind-reading."

He smirked. "Ed gives me too much credit. If I could read minds, I wouldn't have to ask why you want to keep this to yourself."

Yu narrowed her eyes at the cool arrogance her son was projecting. Was this how he was to others? "As you've guessed, it's a Xingian matter. I thought it should be kept so. Despite Edward's initial involvement."

Roy gestured to the surrounding grounds. "I may not be Xingian, but so long as the embassy is in my jurisdiction, what happens here _is_ my concern." There was a sharpness to his gaze as he added, "Especially considering who was involved."

"But the embassy is considered Xingian land," she countered. "So long as it does not spill onto Amestrian soil, it is the concern of Princess Mei."

"But it already has," he stated. "Not from Fullmetal's involvement, although that certainly adds to it." He paused for a heartbeat, then added, "If someone is here illegally, that is _precisely_ my concern."

The calm assertion caught her off guard. That hadn't occurred to her—and it should have.

"When the embassy arrived, the princess signed paperwork that stated how many persons were included. It did not allow for extras."

"A little controlling, I would think," she muttered.

"Be that as it may, it's been a requirement for a long time."

Yu remembered the hassle she had gone through when she came to this country to study, but she had been on her own then. She hadn't thought about how a group would be affected. "I see," she said. "My apologies for not telling you straight away, then. I wouldn't want to cause you any problems with your superiors."

"Their opinions of me would hardly be affected." His smile had an odd quality about it. "But my duties are what they are." His expression sobered. "If there's been an illegal entrance in my region then that is something I need to address. _Is_ there someone here from Xing who did not come with the embassy?"

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "There is," she conceded. "A young man of about twenty. I couldn't tell you why he's here."

"He didn't give you any indications when he . . . _spoke_ with you last night?"

"He was vague." She shook her head. "He spoke mostly in hyperbole."

He seemed to be waiting for more. She sighed again.

"All I know is that he wanted my cooperation. Edward interrupted whatever point he was trying to make."

Roy nodded. "All right. It's not much to go on, but I suppose it'll have to do." He glanced to the darkening sky, and when he looked back, his expression had warmed. "It's late, I shouldn't keep you. You will take care? I . . . don't like the thought of you being threatened."

"I'll be fine. I doubt one old woman would be worth the effort."

He gave her another odd smile, and said, "Perhaps."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, before he bade her goodnight.

After he had left, Yu made her way back to Mei's quarters. She folded her arms as she turned the conversation over in her mind. She supposed she'd been naïve to think she could have control over what information her son received, but she hadn't expected to deal with . . . she wasn't quite sure what she'd just dealt with. Only that it hadn't been the little boy she'd watch grow up.

Mei was waiting for her just inside the doorway. The princess had clearly been watching the whole exchange, and had probably heard quite a bit. "‹I know he's your son,›" she said, slowly, "‹and I mean no offense, but . . . I'm not sure I entirely trust him.›"

"‹No offense taken, Princess.›" She sat down at the table and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "‹I understand.›"

What she couldn't say out loud, what she could barely admit to herself, was that she wasn't sure just how much she trusted him right now, either.

* * *

"‹Cousin!›"

Roy paused just outside the edge of the embassy grounds and let Li Xue catch up to him.

"Can I walk with you a while?"

"Certainly."

"If it makes you feel any better," she said in a low voice as they started down the block, "my aunt is not talking much to me, either. She has been the whole day with the princess. I am still not sure what happened last night."

He smiled wryly. "I shouldn't be too surprised. I knew there would be . . . politics. But I wasn't expecting this."

His cousin fell silent. After a moment, she said, carefully, "Your mother carries her father's loyalties to the Chang clan. Such loyalties can be very strong."

"And you? What loyalties do you carry?"

She smiled. "I am a merchant's daughter and a scholar. My family's loyalty is to money and goods, and my own is to knowledge."

Roy nodded. Those loyalties were easy to understand.

Li Xue glanced off to the side, and seemed to be considering something. Eventually she continued. "I believe Princess Mei came here seeking something. A . . . I forget the word. Something to help her in competing with the other children of the emperor."

"An advantage."

"Yes. I do not know what. But . . . she may not be the only one who has come here to seek it."

Roy exhaled through his nose. "Something she thinks she can find here in Amestris, and not in Xing. Something related to alchemy."

"Yes. Or so I think."

"Well. I hope this will not put anyone else in danger."

"As do I."

They had reached Roy's car, and he turned to his cousin as they paused on the sidewalk. "Be careful."

She smiled. "These things are not unexpected when dealing with the royal family."

"Mm. But now they involve Amestris." He made a sweeping gesture, and gave her an apologetic smile. "And that's where _my_ loyalty lies."

As he sat in the car and watched his cousin walk back to the embassy, Roy's jaw clenched. He was probably jumping to conclusions. He had very little to go on and even less that was certain. A life of politics and intrigue has made him paranoid.

He started the car and pulled away from the curb, wishing he could believe it was that simple.

* * *

Ed met him at the top of the stairs, bare to the waist and hair still dripping from the shower. He took one look at Roy's face and grimaced.

"I woulda told you—I wanted to tell you—but she asked me not to."

Roy let his expression soften. "I know. I figured as much." He reminded himself that his lover was not the one he was upset with.

Ed sighed as he rubbed a towel over his hair. "Almost went over there today. She said that Ling guy wouldn't've actually hurt her, but I don't like the way he was waving that sword around."

Roy raised an eyebrow at this but held his tongue.

"I figured she'd be pretty safe if she stuck around Mei, though. Your mom said something about Ling not attacking Mei outright—this sounds like one fucked-up family, you know that?"

Roy chuckled, and let his hand rest on the damp skin of Edward's back as they walked to the bedroom. "Indeed it does."

"Seems a shit way to run a country, to have the royal family at each other's throats," the young man grumbled. "But what I don't get is why it's involving your mom. She said Ling was reminding her that she could technically do what she wanted, but I don't get why it matters."

Interesting. "Mother has the ear of the princess. That kind of influence can be worth a lot."

"Maybe. But if she's loyal to Mei then what does he think he's going to do?" Ed yawned, and flopped down on the bed. "I just don't like that Ling guy." He propped his chin on his folded arms and watched the older man through the doorway to the bathroom. "There's something slimy about him."

Roy listened as the young man gave him a brief rundown of the night before. The emphasis was not where he would have liked and he suspected there were details missing, but all he did was make the occasional encouraging noise. He needed any information he could get right now, and the last thing he wanted to do would be to put the source of that information on the defensive.

"Must've covered half the city today looking for him. Would've thought he'd stand out."

Roy made a questioning noise around his toothbrush.

"The slums were my first thought, but nobody there said they'd seen anyone from Xing. The ones that bothered to talk to me, that is." He rolled onto this back and stretched, and Roy allowed himself a momentary distraction of watching the muscles ripple beneath the scarred skin. "The slums could be overrun with homunculi and no one would say anything. Anyway, then I realized he could be staying anywhere. He seems like the resourceful type, and there's enough warehouses and empty apartments and such throughout the city. If he's keeping near the embassy, then no one would look twice. The girl in the mask might get noticed, but she seems good at staying in the shadows."

Roy cocked an eyebrow again as he bent over to spit. So there'd been two people.

"But why the fuck are they even here?" Ed grumbled, oblivious. "Mei, too. Your mom said they were looking for some kinda edge. Mei wants to help her clan, Ling wants the throne or something—I dunno, I just wish I knew what that had to do with them coming _here_."

"Those are answers I wish I had, as well." He muttered under the sound of running water.

A short time later he exited the bathroom to find Ed scowling up at the ceiling, his arms still folded above his head as if they'd been forgotten after his stretch.

"How well do rumors travel across the desert?"

Roy paused in the middle of changing and looked over. "It's difficult to say. But there has been a steady trade presence here, even when there wasn't an embassy, so it's safe to say that rumors _do_ make it across to Xing."

Ed grunted. Judging by the way his expression darkened, this was not news he was happy to hear.

"Something on your mind?" Roy ventured.

He made a disgruntled noise and turned onto his stomach, crawling up to the head of the bed. "No. It's nothing. I'm just being paranoid."

"Mm." He let it go, but mentally added his lover's unspoken suspicions to the list of clues. The catalog was getting quite long, and the more evidence he had, the less he liked the options.


	16. Chapter 14

Breda pulled a face as he watched his companion light up yet again. "Already? That's two just since we left the station. Isn't that a bit much, even for you?"

"They don't allow smoking in the buildings at HQ anymore," Havoc explained around the cigarette. "I'm trying to fortify myself."

"Does it actually work that way?"

The blond shrugged. "It beats doing without completely."

The corporal driving the car let out a discreet cough, and Havoc sheepishly lowered his window.

"I doubt Mustang would care if you smoked in his office," Breda pointed out. "He used to light the damn things for you."

"Yeah, but this comes from higher up. Some general got all prissy about it, next thing you know there's no smoking allowed anywhere in any military buildings. I dunno, something about air flow and the vents."

Breda just shook his head. He'd read the report when the new rule went into effect, and while the reasoning was sound, he thought it was a case of over-reacting, which was something the new administration tended to do about the oddest things. They wanted to craft an image of caring about their people, but did it mostly by latching onto mundane, insignificant issues, instead of the larger problems. Still, he'd rather deal with that than the madness they had had under Bradley.

"How long are you in East, again?" he asked.

"The train for Liore leaves tomorrow afternoon." He took a drag, and mumbled something behind his hand about being pulled into things. "We should grab a beer tonight, with Mustang and the boss . . . is Al old enough to go into a bar?"

"Has been for over a year, Havoc. You know that." He could sympathize with the question, though; even as a suit of armor Al had always come across as a little kid. They all tended to forget that he was legally an adult now. "Maybe if Al's there, those two will behave themselves," he muttered to himself.

Havoc chuckled. "He lives with them, he's probably seen it all by now—well, no, hopefully not _everything_ , but you get what I mean."

Breda made a disgusted noise. "God, I hope not. Poor kid's probably traumatized."

"Oh, come on. They have _some_ discretion."

"Not when they've been drinking," he pointed out. "Once Mustang's had a few, he starts trying to feel up Ed, and once _Ed's_ had a few he starts letting him—" They both ignored the uncomfortable coughing coming from the front seat. "—I got no problem with them, but that doesn't mean I want to _see_ it."

"Ever think that maybe they wouldn't be so touchy-feely if they didn't know it bugged you?" Havoc said with some good-natured snickering, as the car pulled past the gate into headquarters.

"You obviously didn't see them after they slipped away from the main party last Yule."

"What were you doing following them?"

"I was looking for the bathroom! They could've at least locked the damn door. . . ." Breda grimaced at the memory. "That was _not_ an image I needed to have."

"You're just jealous because you didn't have a date."

They stopped in the designated stall in the garage. Their driver seemed to be trying to set a speed record for exiting the car, and Breda couldn't help but grin. He and Havoc got out much more leisurely.

"You're one to talk, Hav," he commented as he waited for the blond to stamp out his cigarette. "Your date left after, what, two hours?"

"She had a family thing."

"You go out with her after that?"

His shoulders drooped. "No."

"That's my point, then."

"Forget her, she's not even worth missing," he insisted as they headed for the stairs. "I got someone else on my mind now."

"Oh? Do tell."

"It's not—nothing's happened yet, all right? It probably won't come to anything."

"But there's someone you're going after, right? Come on, I want details."

"It's not like that! It's—look, forget I said anything, okay? It's probably nothing."

"Fine, but don't think you're getting off that easily."

He tossed the other soldier a wave as they parted, Havoc heading to Mustang's office, and Breda to Lieutenant Colonel Phillips' area.

East Headquarters hadn't changed much in the five years since he'd last been here. There might have been a fresh coat of paint on the walls, but the ceiling had the same cracks, and the doors had the same gouges. They had plastered over the old bullet holes, at least. (He wasn't sure why maintenance had made such a fuss over that, shooting at a dog was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.) Only the faces had changed. Mustang was now in Lieutenant General Grumman's old office, and Mustang's old space was occupied by Lieutenant Colonel Phillips.

And speaking of, it was time for Breda to get the man's measure.

* * *

"Hakuro's likely to find support from Raven and a couple of the others," Havoc summarized. "But you'll have O'Connel and Radcliff. Can't be sure where anyone else stands, most of them either don't care or are trying to be neutral."

"No surprises there," Roy muttered as he looked over the papers the lieutenant had given him. "I think most of the upper ranks still cling to the old regime. It's just that some of them are starting to realize they should be less vocal about it."

"How important is the support of the generals, sir? If there's enough evidence and testimony, they shouldn't be able to cover it up."

"They can make it messy, though. Drag it out. Even get the sentence lightened. Speaking of testimony, where are we with Hakuro's subordinates?"

Havoc tweaked a small bundle out of the stack and set it on top. "The top part are the ones we're sure of, the next group are the ones that are still iffy. I think about a third are ones you've spoken with personally. The last bunch are the ones who either won't talk to us or told us to shove it."

He nodded in appreciation as he flipped through the pages. The first two lists were significantly larger than he'd been expecting. "This many? I didn't think we were doing this well."

The blond chuckled. "Thank Fuery. He has this way of getting people to let down their guard and talk."

"Mm. Must be the baby-face." Roy smirked as he skimmed over the list. This many testimonies might lessen the amount they'll need from the townsfolk. "It depends on the quality of the information, though," he added under his breath.

"I wouldn't know about that. Fuery said most of them didn't want to get into details," Havoc said as he fidgeted with an unlit cigarette.

"Don't let my aide catch you with that. His contempt is legendary."

"It's not even lit—" he grumbled, but put it away. "I suppose you're missing Hawkeye, sir."

Roy tapped the papers back into their folder and sighed. "My nerves are grateful for the lack of gunshots."

Havoc snickered. "Yeah, you miss her. So how's the new office working out, anyway?"

He shrugged, setting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers. "I've been here barely six months. We're still . . . working out the kinks."

"Uh-huh. Well, good luck with that."

Roy leaned his forehead against his hands and smiled ruefully, not surprised that the other soldier didn't buy it. Havoc might play dumb, but he had been in the army long enough to tell when a situation was off. His short pass through the outer office had probably been enough to rouse his suspicions. "We work with what we have," he said without raising his head. "It's all any of us can do."

"Yeah, that's true. Just make sure you're not settling when you don't have to, sir."

* * *

Breda stood patiently in front of the desk while Phillips flipped through his file. He didn't doubt that the lieutenant colonel had already read it, but it was a formality.

"Well. Except for being involved in that suspected coup four years ago, your record is exemplary." Phillips remarked as he tapped the papers back into order.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." If Phillips had an opinion one way or the other about the coup, he was keeping to himself. Breda figured it was probably best to do the same.

"Welcome aboard, then, Lieutenant," the older man said. "I'm sure you'll be an asset to us here in the east."

"Thank you, sir."

"I understand you've served here before, under then-Colonel Mustang."

"Yes, sir. Almost four years."

"Off the record, what was he like as a commanding officer back then?"

"Unofficially?" Phillips was watching him closely, but without any apparent malice, so Breda decided to take a gamble. "He was a lazy bastard who had to be threatened at gunpoint before he got any work done."

The lieutenant colonel laughed, finally relaxing back in his chair. "Well, his current aide is more likely to fire scorn than bullets. I'm not sure that's a step up."

Breda chuckled. "Less repair work, at least. But seriously, sir, we knew we could count on him, and we always knew where we stood."

"Something that was all too rare, back then."

"Sir?"

He shook his head. "I've never made a habit of blinding myself. There were more than a few questionable practices under Bradley. A lot of us in the middle ranks and below were unhappy with the way things were. Mustang was just the only one fool enough to try doing something about it."

"Sir."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant. I'm not about to ask you to compromise your old boss, and certainly not for something like _that_." He shrugged. "Frankly, it doesn't matter. Not now. But I'm sure you're aware that not everyone shares that opinion."

"Sir."

"This is completely off the record—but there are many in the upper ranks who weren't happy with the outcome of the court martial. They want to see Brigadier General Mustang fail, and might not be against giving it a helping hand. It's petty and vindictive and bordering on underhanded and has no place in a proper military," he concluded with what was almost a snarl.

"Sir?"

"I'm telling you this because you're the brigadier general's friend. You might appreciate knowing what he's up against."

"I—thank you, sir."

"Unfortunately, some of us have orders—" He sighed and shook his head. "But that's neither here nor there. I understand you're acquainted with the Elric brothers as well, Lieutenant."

Breda blinked, trying to reorient himself after the abrupt shift. "I've known them since they were kids, we all did—all of us on Mustang's staff at the time, that is."

"I never had the pleasure of meeting them back then. I understand Edward was a bit of a handful."

"Ah." He couldn't help but grin. "A bit more than a handful, actually. I'm sure you could find the expense reports. The Elrics were mostly on the road, though. We didn't see them too often."

"I always thought that a boy barely into his teens was an odd choice for a field agent, but I'm sure the fuhrer had his reasons."

"I wouldn't guess, sir. But I do know that Ed was extremely talented, even at twelve."

"I suppose it makes sense for the military to want to grab him before anyone else could. But he couldn't have enlisted in the regular military before he turned sixteen."

"No, sir. I don't think he ever had any plans to." He also disappeared before the military had a chance to draft him, but Breda wasn't going to mention that.

"I'm just trying to get a sense of him," Phillips explained. "He's around here quite a bit, what with his work as a contractor and his—" he cleared his throat, "— _relationship_ with the brigadier general. I'm just trying to get a sense of who I'm dealing with."

"Has he caused trouble?"

Phillips' eyebrows rose. "Trouble? No, not really."

"In six months? He really has mellowed, then. Well, give it time."

"Should I _expect_ trouble?"

Breda grinned at the tone. "Ed's always been a good kid," he allowed. "He's just never given more than a passing nod to rules and propriety. And his temper can be quite spectacular."

"Well, he did put his fist through the wall, but I'd say that was Private Jennings' fault. On the whole, Edward hasn't been anything but civil, at least around the base."

He shrugged. "I don't mean to sound like he starts trouble for no reason. He was just never one for holding back."

"It's probably good that he's not around here more often than he is," Phillips muttered. "Jennings isn't the only one who's too stupid to keep his mouth shut."

"Ah. . . ."

"I'm sure I don't have to elaborate. The men know I don't want that kind of gossip, but that doesn't stop them when I'm not in the room. Most of them have the sense not to say anything where the brigadier general can hear, but I'm sure he hears enough. Anyway, it's not him I'm concerned with. Mustang knows how to handle himself. But Elric has a reputation as a hot-head and I'd rather be prepared."

"Sir?"

Phillips waved a hand. "I'm just giving you a heads-up on the kind of atmosphere you can expect. That kind of thing can brew trouble, if one doesn't take care."

The lieutenant colonel's sharp gaze made it clear he wasn't just talking about the gossipers, or about Ed. "Understood, sir. If I may?" At Phillips' nod, he went on; "Ed and Mustang can both take care of themselves, and they're no strangers to rumor and gossip. I'm sure they're aware of it, and they're handling it the best way they see fit."

Phillips smiled. "You're probably right. Mustang's a cagy one. I don't mean that as an insult. He's a good soldier, and he knows how to play the game. He's a good man."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

It was just into evening, and the restaurant/bar was only beginning to see its nightly crowd. Ed sipped his beer and settled back in his chair, making a show of leaning against Roy. He wasn't usually fond of such displays in public, but the bar side of the restaurant was still mostly empty. Besides, it was worth it to watch Breda squirm. When Roy's hand disappeared under the table, the lieutenant looked like he wanted to drown himself in his beer mug. The hand was only resting on Ed's hip, but from across the table it could've easily been elsewhere.

"You know you're only encouraging them," Havoc commented around his cigarette.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Roy said with careful neutrality.

Ed smirked and rubbed his cheek on Roy's shoulder.

Breda groaned. "Honestly, aren't you two worried about . . . public reaction?"

The two lovers glanced at each other, and Ed snickered. "Not _here_." To answer the puzzled looks he jerked a nod at the bar, where two young women were exchanging a kiss goodbye.

The expressions on the lieutenants' faces when they twisted around were priceless. They were both startled, but while Havoc looked intrigued, Breda looked poleaxed.

" _Please_ tell me this isn't some kind of a—a _gay_ _bar_ ," the heavy-set soldier hissed as he turned back to the table.

Ed just snickered again while Roy chuckled. "Not as such," the older man admitted. "Just . . . accepting."

"The one working the bar is the owner's kid sister," Ed added. He waved as one of the girls left.

The other, a plump young woman with a dimpled smile, walked over to their table as she fussed with the ties of her apron. "Hi guys! Haven't seen you around here lately."

Ed bumped his head into Roy's shoulder. "Blame him, he's been working too much."

Roy pinched his side and he jumped, and Breda suddenly got very interested in the racks of lights hanging from the rafters. "As if you haven't been spending most of your time at the embassy," the dark-haired man said. He nodded to the two men across the table. "By the way, these are Lieutenants Heymans Breda and Jean Havoc. Breda, Havoc, this is Miss Emma Carter."

She smiled brightly. "Hi! Newly transfered, or just visiting?"

"I'm passing through, but he's transfered here," Havoc supplied. "So, that was your, uh, girlfriend, then?"

"Melanie? Yeah." She grinned again. "Isn't she something? She studies at East City U. I've taken a few classes, but I don't have the brains for it like she does. Oh—" she turned back to Roy, "—speaking of the embassy, I've been hearing the talk. Can their alchemy really blow things up at a distance?"

"They can transmute at a distance, yes," Roy confirmed. "If it's set up properly. To be honest, I've never been sure how it works."

"But isn't your mother from Xing? I've heard several people say your mom was in the embassy."

"Yes, but she uses Amestrian alchemy for the most part."

"What about—oh, shoot, I better get to work. I'll talk to you boys later." Emma waved over her shoulder as she went to tend to the customers who'd just sat down at the bar.

"So, how _is_ that going?" Breda asked. "With your mom, I mean."

Roy made a noncommittal noise as he sipped his drink. "It's . . . going about as well as you'd probably expect."

Ed snorted, and bumped his head into his lover's shoulder again. "Meaning she at least doesn't hate me anymore."

"She never hated you."

"She didn't exactly _like_ me, either."

Havoc gestured between them. "So is it the age difference, or the fact that you're a guy?"

Ed waved away the wisps of smoke and said, "Beats me," at the same time that Roy said, "Both."

"Really?" he glanced up. "She admitted to it?"

"She admitted you were not what she was expecting," Roy explained as rubbed the young man's side, while Breda coughed and tried not to look like he wasn't looking. "Both your age and gender were mentioned. Though I think the latter was more because I had never told her quite how broad my tastes were."

"I was wondering just how someone goes about telling their parents that kind of thing," Havoc mused.

Roy smiled wryly. "I'm probably not the best example. I handled it by not handling it, until I had to."

Ed snorted as he lowered his mug. "'Oh by the way, Mom, I'm dating a guy'? No wonder she wasn't expecting me."

He grimaced. "I was a _little_ more tactful than that."

Breda chuckled. "Honestly, Boss, I don't think you're ever what people expect."

Ed snickered. "I dunno, should I be insulted by that?"

"It's only the truth, Love." Roy pressed a kiss to his hair.

Breda tried to block them out with his mug.

"By the way, Havoc," the black-haired man continued, "how long do you plan on making Gracia wait before you ask her out?"

Havoc jumped as if he'd been kicked. "How did you know about—"

Breda sputtered and thunked his mug to the table. " _Gracia_? _That's_ who your 'mystery woman' is?"

"How do you think?" Roy smirked. "Elysia's her father's daughter, Jean. Not much gets past her."

"You're _dating_ Gracia."

"We're not _dating_ ," Havoc protested. "We're not _anything_. I've just been helping her out, like with stuff that needs fixing and errands and stuff. We've never done anything of the dating sort and I don't—just what did Elysia say to you?"

"That you make her momma happy and she thinks you should ask her out."

Havoc looked dazed. "She said all that?"

"Well." Breda wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. "You can't get a better endorsement than that."

"Yeah but. . . ." Havoc took a drag, and ran his free hand over his hair, looking off to the side for a moment. "I know how close they were—Hughes and Gracia, I mean—and maybe she hasn't gotten over him dying. Four years isn't _that_ long. It's not like I can just go up and ask. If it's too soon for her . . . well, I don't want to hurt her, y'know?"

"Is she still wearing her ring?" Roy asked, obviously knowing the answer.

"Yeah, she's got in on a chain around her neck."

"So it's not on her finger anymore." Breda nodded. "Yeah, you're fine."

"She wouldn't take it off her finger if she wasn't ready to move on," Roy added.

"I dunno." Havoc ran a hand through his spiky hair again. "I still feel like I'm moving in on another man's territory."

"Maes would want his family taken care of," Roy stated quietly. "He'd want them to be happy."

Ed leaned against his lover and twisted his mug between his hands, feeling more than a little out of his element. His social life had never been anything approaching normal. He'd never cared, but it had left him without a frame of reference for things like this. He knew from Elysia that Gracia enjoyed Havoc's company quite a bit, and Havoc obviously liked Gracia, and Ed didn't see what the problem was. The hard truth was that Hughes was dead, he was never coming back. Didn't life have to go on?

* * *

Al double-checked that the door to the bookstore was locked before picking up his bag, thinking he should stop by home and stash these books in his room before meeting his brother and the others at the bar. It wasn't that he planned to keep the books, only to read them before putting them out for sale, but he brought enough books home that he was sure to be teased for it. He grinned to himself. As if his brother wouldn't be twice as bad.

Less than three blocks from the store, something off to the side made Al stop. He tensed as he turned toward the alley, though his instincts hadn't registered it as a threat—just out of place.

At the corner of the building, just out of the way of foot-traffic, a figure was slumped down on the concrete. The clothes were unmistakably Xingian. Wary but intrigued, Al walked over and crouched down a safe distance away. "Hello? Are you all right?"

"Hungry . . ." the figure moaned.

Al frowned. The person was male, maybe twenty, and not anyone he recognized. Aside from Princess Mei, most of the people who had come with the embassy were older. Al was fairly sure he would've remembered this person if he'd seen them before. "Did you lose your way to the embassy?"

"Uhhmm. . . ."

Al wasn't sure if he was genuinely confused or stalling. But before the stranger could articulate an answer his stomach growled, loudly. Al sighed, and figured there couldn't be any harm in taking pity.

A half-hour or so later, Al found himself sitting in a small diner watching the stranger finish off his third plate of food. The waitstaff didn't seem to quite know what to do, hovering nearby in case another order was placed. The few other customers there that night were staring outright.

The stranger set the empty plate with the others, then pressed his hands together, favoring Al with a radiant smile. "You have my eternal thanks, kind sir!" he said as he bowed his head over his hands. "I'd gotten lost, and if you hadn't happened by, I would have died of starvation."

"Um . . . you're welcome." Al fiddled with the knife of his place setting. He'd finished with his own food some time ago. "The embassy isn't _that_ far away. I'm sure somebody could have pointed you in the right direction."

"Ah, yes, but when I get so hungry I often can't think." He settled back in his chair and grabbed a dinner roll.

"I see." Al studied the stranger. His posture was casual, but his balance was secure and his center was guarded. Even when he'd been eating the sword at his side had been within easy reach, and Al had no doubt he knew how to use it. His smile was friendly enough, but couldn't exactly be described as open. "What did you say your name was? I don't think I've seen you around the embassy."

"Oh—no, I doubt you would've noticed me, I've been . . . hanging back. Haven't wanted to get in the way, you know."

Al leaned back in his chair. "No, I'm sure I would've remembered you."

With a flick of his wrist, Al sent the knife flying over the table. If it had been a sharp implement instead of a table knife the stranger would've been in danger of serious injury, instead of just bruising. But with a blur of movement the stranger snatched the knife out of the air, catching it between two fingers. They locked eyes for a moment; the stranger's posture had gone from relaxed to on guard in an instant.

"I'm guessing you're this 'Ling' person who fought my brother the other night," Al reasoned.

The stranger shrugged, falling into an easy smile. "What can I say? There was a . . . misunderstanding."

"He seemed to think you were threatening someone."

"Nothing of the sort!" Ling calmly stuck the bread roll on the end of the knife. "I was merely illustrating a point. It was our unfortunate language barrier that caused the problem."

"The language barrier, or that sword you carry?"

"Eh, well." Ling shrugged again, taking a bite of the impaled bread. "The point is, there was no harm done. So no hard feelings, right?"

"I suppose." Though Al was pretty sure Ed still held some 'hard feelings'. "So what was it that got so 'misunderstood'?"

"It was nothing, really. It's just that now that I've come all this way, I find I need some help."

"Help? What kind of help?"

"Well, I'm not a . . . oh, what is the term you use here? Alchemist?"

Al blinked. "Alchemist? Why do you need an alchemist? Doesn't your country have a lot of . . . whatever you call them there?"

"Indeed, yes. But it's not a skill that I've been blessed with."

"But why do you need to come _here_?"

"For an alchemist!"

"But—" Al broke off and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. You want an alchemist. Why do you want an alchemist?"

"Like I said. I'm not one."

"There are several with the embassy."

"There are," he acknowledged, slowly. "But I don't think they would be able to help me."

"Why not?"

"Ah . . . how to explain. . . ."

"Is it because you didn't come with the embassy?"

Silence, for a moment.

"You do know that entering the country without permission is illegal?"

"I had permission!"

"From the _Amestrian_ government?"

"But I'm here now, so I might as well do what I can. Oh! Maybe _you_ can help me!"

"Me? What could I do?"

"You're an alchemist!"

"But what—wait, how did you know that?"

"You're the alchemy brothers!" he said brightly. "Even in Xing we've heard of you."

"You—you have?"

"Of course! You are the ones who made that town in the desert disappear in an instant."

"We're not the ones who—" he broke off with a shake of his head. "Wait a minute, how did you know about that?"

"A town vanishes? That's not the kind of news you can keep within your country's borders."

"Oh . . . right. I guess not."

"So how did you do it?"

"We're not—why do you want to know _that_?"

"It's an impressive feat of alchemy. An alchemist would have to be very strong to do something like that."

"It _wasn't_ _us_."

Ling paused, smile frozen on his face.

"Hundreds of people died that day." Al leaned forward, trying to impress the gravity upon this stranger. "We tried to stop it. We did everything we _could_ to stop it. I don't know what you've heard about us, but my brother and I would never— _never_ —do something so—so _terrible_."

They watched each other for moment. His words seemed to have had an impact, but Al didn't like the shrewd look in the other man's eye.

"But," Ling said eventually. "You know how it was done."

"Didn't you hear the part about people dying?" he snapped. "No, I _don't_ know exactly how it was done, I wouldn't _want_ to know! Why do you want to know how to _kill_ _people_?"

"Ah, no, no!" Ling waved his hands, and offered a placating smile. "I don't want to kill people, that wouldn't be any good at all! What good is a ruler without people to rule?"

"Then what _do_ you want!"

"Immortality!"

At some point, Al had risen, leaning his hands against the table. He fell back into his seat now, feeling like the air had just been knocked from his lungs. "What—?"

"I want to find the path to immortality!" Ling explained, cheerfully. "Life and death are linked, so something that caused so much death—"

"Forget it."

"—Huh?"

"I said _forget_ _it_." Al stood, snatching his bag of books and walking to the counter to see about the bill.

"But I need to find the path to immortality to help my clan!" The man was all but whining as he hopped up to follow.

"You can't cheat death. If you try, it only brings more death, and it always catches up to you in the end." He turned and stalked out of the restaurant.

"That's fine, that's fine! All I want—"

"That's _fine_?" Al rounded on the foreigner and grabbed his collar. "It's 'fine' for people to die for—"

There was a blur in his peripheral vision and Al snapped a kick to the side before he'd even consciously registered the movement. The figure flowed around the strike, but before it could counter, Al twisted, and wrenched Ling into the attacker.

Al backed up several paces and dropped his bag, keeping his attention on Ling and the masked figure who seemed to have melted in from the shadows. The evening crowd had drawn back around them, leaving a cleared space on the sidewalk as people hurried away or stopped short. Good. Al didn't want to risk anyone getting hurt.

Ling spoke a few words in Xingian, and the other one voiced what seemed to be a protest. Then Ling stepped toward Al, all smiles and friendly gestures.

"Sorry! No harm meant, I assure you!"

Al narrowed his eyes, but didn't move away as Ling came within striking distance.

"I said something wrong," the Xingian man continued. "I don't want immortality _itself_ , not really, but the _path_ to immortality. Just the path! No one will die—"

"You don't get it." Al shook his head. "The entire thing is a death trap. It's a fool's errand. No good can come of it—believe me, I know. I've seen what happens to those who try."

Ling's face fell as he sighed. "That is unfortunate. Because I cannot go back empty-handed."

* * *

Roy brushed a hand against his lover's metal arm as they walked to the car. Automail wasn't as sensitive as flesh, but he knew his the young man would be aware of the gesture. "You got awfully quiet."

Ed shrugged. "Didn't have anything to say."

His lips twitched into a reflective smile as he unlocked the car. The difference in years between them was of no consequence, but every now and then he was reminded that there was something of an experience gap.

The young man was pensive as he dropped into the passenger's seat. "So do you really think, Havoc and Gracia-san . . .?"

"I think it's possible they could make each other happy," he said as he started the car. "I admit I was startled when Elysia first mentioned it, but Havoc's a good guy. Once one gets past his obsession with boobs, that is."

Ed barked a laugh. "Personally, I've never seen the appeal."

Roy smirked as he pulled out into the late-evening traffic. "Of course you haven't."

Ed poked his hip. "You're fucking lucky I don't and you know it."

"Oh, come now, liking one doesn't preclude liking the other. I can appreciate a pair of finely shaped breasts, for example. But I appreciate a man's physique equally as much."

"That's just 'cause you're a freak. Oi, you better not be _appreciating_ any breasts while I'm around."

"I only have eyes for you, my love."

"Fuck, now you're getting sappy. Are you sure you're sober enough to drive?"

"By body weight, I drank much less than you did."

"Just who are you calling a fly so small he gets drunk off of one beer?"

"'Fly'? I never said 'fly.'"

"I can hold my drink just fine, bastard." He huffed and thumped himself back into the seat, but Roy hadn't missed the laughter hidden under the growl. "German beer is stronger than the watered-down shit we have here, anyway," he added in a mutter, before succumbing to a jaw-cracking yawn. "Fuuuck, I wore myself out wandering around town today. Can't believe how lazy I've gotten."

"Any luck?"

"Not really. A few people said they remembered seeing someone who looks like him, but that's all. Oh, it seems he's been trying to get away without paying for things. The guy at the deli was pretty pissed about it."

Roy grimaced. That was bound to reflect badly on the embassy.

"Al said he was looking forward to to seeing Havoc while he was in town, I wonder why he didn't join us," Ed mused. Drink tended to make his already over-active mind switch topics without warning, it was just something Roy had come to expect.

"He probably got caught up in something at the book store. He said something about expecting a donation in today." It wasn't unusual for the young man to stay after hours in the back to go through a box of books. Roy was mildly envious.

"Either books or the kittens—did you know they had kittens?"

"Kittens? No, I hadn't heard that. Though it's not surprising."

"It wasn't Al, if you can believe it." Ed chuckled. "The owner found a pregnant stray out in the alley. They've had her in the back of the shop for several weeks. I can't believe Al didn't let it slip before now."

"He was probably planning to wait until he could take one of the kittens home."

"Probably. As if one cat isn't enough."

Roy chuckled. He was really more of a dog person, but as long as nothing important got shredded or peed on and he didn't have to clean up any cat boxes, he didn't particularly mind—although their current pet's penchant for filching small items was a bit of a nuisance. "Whether it was books or kittens, I'm sure he'll be happy to tell us all about it once we get home."


	17. Chapter 15

Alphonse was brooding. He hadn't seemed like the brooding type, but Mei could think of no other way to describe it. The normally sociable boy was sitting off to one side as she conversed with another alchemist, a solider who specialized in stone and minerals. She kept expecting Alphonse to jump in with insights like he normally did, but so far he was keeping quiet.

Working with Major Carter was an interesting change. He might not be as quick as the Elrics, but his work with stone gave him a unique perspective on qi lines. He professed to having felt _something_ when doing large-scale transmutations in the ground, but had never known what it was or how to access it. He was eager to find out if those were in fact the energy lines she had spoken of during the demonstration.

Alphonse, meanwhile, sat watching them with his knees pulled up to his chest and an uneasy frown on his face. It was a good thing Major Carter didn't require detailed explanations, because Mei was finding it quite distracting. More than distracting—unnerving. He had been like that the whole morning without any explanation.

It was just before lunch, as the major was gathering up his notes and getting ready to leave that Alphonse unfolded himself from the ground. He took a long look at the scrolls Mei had spread out, before turning to meet her eye. "Princess Mei—why are you here?"

"Why am I—" She stopped herself, frowning. "To learn, of course. I thought I had said that—"

"I don't think so." His voice was quiet, but had an edge she wasn't used to hearing from him. "You came here for a reason. A specific reason. What is it?"

Carter looked between them. "Alphonse-kun, what—"

"Wh—" The princess scowled, trying to collect herself. "I don't have to explain myself to you! My reasons are my own."

"I won't allow your _reasons_ to put people in danger!" he snapped back.

She gaped at him. She must have misunderstood what he'd said. "Danger—I'm not putting anyone in danger—"

"You will." His words had a quiet certainty. "If you came here for the same reason as Ling, you will."

"Ling!" Anger flared at the name of her rival and before she realized what she was doing she closed the space between them. "You spoke to him—when? What did he say?"

Al sidestepped and turned, neatly keeping just out of her reach. "It doesn't matter. I'll tell you the same thing I told him: forget immortality. The only thing you'll find is death."

Mei went still, the cold lump in the pit of her stomach almost enough to douse her temper. Searching was one thing, but _finding_ —"You know about immortality."

"Aren't you _listening_? The whole thing is cursed—it's a _death_ _trap_!"

"I need to help my clan! I need—"

" _Forget_ _it_!" He sliced a hand though the air. "Find another way."

"You don't understand—" She made to grab his arm but he blocked her. She twisted her hand away and reacted without thinking but he blocked that, too, before returning a strike, one meant to knock her arm wide and open her guard. She deflected and jumped back.

" _You_ don't understand." Alphonse's guard was up, but he seemed calm. As if this wasn't unfamiliar territory for him. "Neither of you do. If you keep pursuing this I will stop you—however I must." He sighed, slowly relaxing. "I don't want to, but I will. I'm not going to let it happen again."

They regarded each other for a long moment, as Mei tried to figure out what to do. What she needed was here, almost within reach, but if she grabbed too quick it would be snatched away.

Alphonse sighed, then abruptly turned and walked away across the courtyard.

" _What_ happen?" Mei called after him. "Alphonse—let _what_ happen again?"

His only response was to wave over his shoulder. She wasn't sure if it was an simple acknowledgement, or a dismissal. The princess bounced on the balls of her feet, wanting to run after him but afraid it would only make the situation worse. Edward's temper she could deal with, he was easy to understand. Alphonse's ran much deeper under the surface. At the moment he was unpredictable, and she couldn't chance ruining her best lead.

* * *

Yu stepped back from her window as Alphonse walked by, one hand over her mouth. She had been too busy with her own worries to watch the alchemy discussion today, but Alphonse's raised voice had shattered her concentration. Once she heard what he was saying, any chance of getting her concentration back evaporated.

She sat down and started at the surface of the table. Immortality would factor prominently in Mei's ultimate goal, of course she had known that, but how would Alphonse know? More importantly, why was he talking about it with such _authority_?

Mei snapped at gathered crowd in Xingian, telling them to remember their duty, while the young major was stuttering out an apology. He sounded as baffled as Yu felt.

Yu rubbed a hand over her face, then flipped over the piece of paper she had been using to take notes. She started to write, but then paused after only a couple strokes, trying to wrest some coherency out of her scattered thoughts. After a long, fruitless moment she set her elbows on the table and let her head rest against her hands.

It pained her that her last meeting with her son had shaken her so badly. When she'd set out on this trip, she had known it would have more than one purpose, but she hadn't expected her duties to the princess and her ties to her family to put her in such conflict. Now she didn't know what to think. She didn't know her _son_. One thing she was certain of, was that the letters she'd gotten over the years had given her a very filtered view. That was only inevitable, but how much of it had been deliberate, how much had been benign, and how much had been her own unwillingness to see, she still wasn't sure. Whatever the motivation, it meant that her son was not the man she had thought he was, not quite. Just how firmly he would stand in opposition to the princess now, she couldn't say.

Yu sighed and rubbed her eyes once more. That much was a personal matter. Other things needed her attention right now.

Picking up her pen, she started in the center of the page, making a notation that signified a goal or end result, and beside it a symbol for _immortality_. She paused; that wasn't exactly right. That may be what the _emperor_ wanted, but she couldn't imagine that any of his children truly wanted their father to live forever. Mei might not have aspirations for the throne herself, but she had no love for her emperor-father or his rule. She stood a better chance by making sure the succession went to someone sympathetic to her clan. But to gain favor at the present, she would need to bring back something that _looked_ like immortality—looked like, but wasn't.

Such as a legendary item steeped in so many rumors, it was impossible to tease fact from fantasy.

She wrote a notation for _stone_ and linked it to the one for immortality.

That was all well and good, but how did the Elrics fit into it?

Princess Mei seemed convinced that those two boys held the key to what she needed. In the beginning, she had been drawn by their obvious skill, but their wide field of knowledge had quickly become apparent, and it wasn't a simple matter of book-learning. Getting them to open up, however, was proving to be a challenge. And now Alphonse had all but stated outright that he did indeed have the knowledge Mei sought, but with such a threat attached to it that it was clear he would never willingly help.

But why? Just _what_ did he know? He'd called it a death trap, and he didn't strike her as the kind to use hyperbole. Something must have happened in the past, something terrible. Her mind flashed to what she'd learned about the tragedy in Liore.

Across from immortality, she wrote the symbol for _death_.

* * *

Each office had its own, unique dynamic. Breda was still learning this one's, but one thing was clear: Major Carter was a bit of an outcast. He'd seen nothing unpleasant in the way the other soldiers treated him, but they weren't exactly warm and friendly, either. For the most part, they ignored him, which was unusual enough for a small office like this.

Breda sat back and watched as his office mates left for lunch in pairs and small groups, passing the young major by without regard. Carter had returned to the office about a half hour before and was clearly distressed about something, but he was barely spared more than a glance or two.

The treatment was disturbing but not surprising. Breda estimated Carter to be about the same age as Ed, but with a fresh-faced idealism that Ed had always lacked. He'd probably gone from private or corporal to major overnight thanks to the state alchemy exam. Not only was this bound to cause some resentment among the regular soldiers, it meant that Carter had never gotten the conditioning that moving through the ranks provides. As far as Breda could tell there wasn't any strong ill will, but no one seemed to quite know what to do with the kid. But the way that everyone seemed to have decided that ignoring him was the best way to go didn't sit right.

Breda waited until the last of the office was well on their way, then stood and moved to Carter's desk. "Something eating you, Major?"

The young man jerked his head up from where it had been resting on his fist. "What?"

Breda grinned. "Definitely something on your mind. Come on, let's hit the cafeteria before all the good stuff is gone."

Carter glanced around in surprise at the empty room, then nodded, flipping his notebook closed and tucking it into his pocket as he stood. Breda sometimes wondered if alchemists kept their notes with them out of paranoia, or just to have a writing surface handy. Either seemed likely.

Breda chatted with him as they made their way through the line, trying to engage him with the latest office gossip, the sports scores—hell, even the weather—but Carter's mind was clearly somewhere else. When they were seated with their trays the older man finally broached what he suspected was the cause. "You were over at the embassy this morning, right?"

"Oh—yeah." Carter poked at a vaguely meat-like lump on his plate. "It's mostly just the Elrics going over there now, so I figured it wouldn't be a problem. . . ."

Not good enough. The older man debated for a moment, then went for the quickest way to get a scientist to open up. "I didn't even know there _were_ other kinds of alchemy. Is what the Xingians use really that different?"

Immediately the kid's eyes lit up. "Well, yes and no. They still deconstruct and reconstruct matter like we do, but the energy for the transmutation comes from a different source. The princess explained it as lines of energy that are like the blood in our veins. . . ."

He went on to talk about lines and keys and something that went right over the other man's head. Breda stopped paying attention to the words, occasionally making the appropriate noises to keep torrent coming. The point was to get Carter to let down his guard. Sooner or later he'd let something useful slip.

"Major," he interrupted when Carter paused for a bite. "Maybe I've missed something, but why did the princess come here?"

Uncertainty flicked across the young man's face. "It's . . . funny you should ask that."

Bingo.

"Oh?"

"She didn't exactly say why, but. . . ." He drifted off, staring down at his plate with a tight expression.

Breda decided to try a different tactic. "I've heard the rumors, of course. If they're trying to take over the country, they're being awfully lazy about it."

Carter huffed a laugh. "Being pretty oblivious about it, too. There's being circumspect, and then there's simply not caring. Princess Mei's asked a lot of questions about alchemy, and some about history, but the current government or politics never come up." He grimaced, and Breda waited. "Lieutenant—how well do you know the Elrics?"

"Well enough. Why? Is Ed causing trouble?"

"Not lately, not that I've heard. Actually, he wasn't there this morning. This was Al. . . ."

" _Al's_ causing trouble?"

"Well—" He hesitated. "He asked the princess why she was here, but—I've never seen Alphonse-kun lose his temper before."

Breda held up a hand. "Wait, hold on. _Al_? Al lost his temper?"

Carter laughed nervously. "Yeah, I was pretty shocked. I'm not even sure what triggered it."

"It must've been something pretty important to make _that_ kid snap. What'd she say?"

"Well . . . Al asked her why she was here, but . . . I guess he didn't like her answer." He stopped and started down at his food again, hesitating a moment before taking a bite.

Breda pushed his tray to one side and folded his arms against the table. "Look. Al doesn't lose his temper over just anything. You've probably realized that. But when he _does_ get mad, it's a good idea for the rest of us to take notice, because it usually means there's something _big_ going on. You get me?"

"Yeah . . . yeah, I can see that."

"It's the same with Ed. Those boys are a good barometer for how serious a situation is."

Carter looked up, startled. "Edward-san? But he loses his temper all the time."

Breda waved a hand. "Yeah, he flails around and yells like a madman. That's for trivial stuff. I mean when he gets _really_ mad—honestly and truly angry. It doesn't happen often, but trust me, you'd know when it does."

"Huh."

"So what was it the princess said that got under Al's skin?"

"Well—" He hesitated again, glancing around. "That's just it, I can't figure it out. He asked her why she was here, and she said it was to learn. But he challenged that—and then he said he wasn't going to let her put anyone in danger. It was out of the blue."

"Hmm." Breda frowned, tapping a finger against the table. "I doubt that."

"Maybe so, but I can't imagine what triggered it."

"What did he say, _exactly_."

Carter was silent for a long moment, his features pinched and troubled. Speaking more to the table than to the man sitting across from him, he finally answered, "He said, 'I'm not going to let it happen again.' he didn't explain, just told her to find another way. Said he would stop her if she kept pursuing—whatever it is she's pursuing."

"Damn." Breda sat back, and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm not sure I want to know," Internally, he was wondering just which part of the events of four years ago was coming back to bite them.

* * *

"Al?" Ed poked his head into the bookstore's back room. The owner, an older woman named Beth, had motioned him toward the back with a concerned look on her face before he'd even had a chance to say anything. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What?" Al blinked up from the ball of fuzz he had cradled in his hands. "Oh, is it lunchtime already?"

Ed folded his arms and leaned against the doorway, frowning down at his brother. "Yeah, it's lunchtime. Why the hell are you here and not at the embassy?"

"Oh. . . ." Al rubbed the kitten's ears. He smiled as the kitten nearly twisted itself off his hands in trying to lean into his fingers, but the expression was distant. "I just came here to think." Looking up again, he lifted his hands for Ed's inspection, causing the tiny animal to wobble and mew. "What do you think of this one, nii-san?"

Ed raised an eyebrow, wondering if there was some way to beat a retreat without being obvious. "Um . . . it's a cat," he said, slowly. "Why are you asking me what I think of a cat?"

"He's really sweet," the younger boy continued. "See, he just loves attention."

"Al. . . ." Ed dropped his face into his hand, partly from exasperation but also to hide his smile. "We already have a cat."

"Don't you think Maggie could use a friend? I read an article that said cats do better when there's two of them. They act out less and are less destructive because they have someone to keep them company and someone to play with."

Sighing, Ed dropped to the floor next to his brother and reluctantly reached out a hand to pet the tawny bundle of fur. "So why this one?"

"Well. . . ." Al tipped the kitten into Ed's lap (ignoring the dual squawks of protest), and reached over to pull a black and white kitten off a nearby shelf. "Alice wants to take this one, and Beth's sister was talking about taking the calico, and one of our customers likes the little black one, so. . . ."

Ed rubbed the kitten's chest as it hooked its claws into his glove. "In other words, this is the one no one wants."

Al huffed, setting the black-and-white down by its multi-colored sibling. "You don't have state it so plainly."

"He's a cat, Al. He's not going to get a complex."

"How do you know? Maybe they don't understand the words, but that doesn't mean—" Al broke off and twisted around, then laughed and leaned forward to let the black kitten climb up his back.

Ed smiled, gently tumbling the tawny kitten around his lap as he watched. This was how things should be. His little brother laughing and playing with kittens, the most pressing thing on his mind whether or not to take one home. This was the kind of thing that made everything they went through worth it.

It was tempting to pretend that there really was nothing else to worry about.

Ed shifted the kitten to the floor and disengaged his gloves. "C'mon Al, I want lunch."

"Yeah, okay. Could you grab her? I don't think I could reach."

The kitten, having successfully conquered Mt. Elric, was busy trying to kill the ponytail beast at the top. Ed scooped it up and unhooked its claws while it growled little high-pitched kitten growls.

"Isn't she cute?" Al laughed. "She's so feisty."

"Yeah— _ow_!—sure." He yanked his left hand away and scowled, setting the kitten on the floor. "Can we _go_?"

"Yes, yes." Al gave the kittens all one last pat, then leaned over and reached under the bottom shelf to pet a cat Ed hadn't noticed.

"Is that the mother?" he asked as they stood to leave. "Who's going to take her?"

"No one, yet." Al explained. "Beth-san was talking about keeping her as a store cat. She seems to like it here."

"Well, as long as she doesn't piss on the books, I guess."

"Nii-san! Don't be vulgar."

Ed waited until they were at the café. He might have held off even longer, but Al was obviously upset. He was trying to act like everything was normal, but he'd never been good about hiding things, even when he hadn't had expressions to betray him.

"Blowing up at people for no reason is supposed to be _my_ thing, Al."

He looked up in surprise at the non-sequitur, then sighed, glancing off to the side and smiling ruefully. "I guess you would've gone to the embassy before coming to the bookstore."

Ed leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I _know_ the kinds of things that trigger you. But did she actually admit to something, or—?"

Al set his elbows in the table and rubbed his hands over his face. "It wasn't Princess Mei. Not really."

"Then who—" He broke off as the waitress arrived with their food.

Al watched as the food was set down, giving the girl a distracted smile as she left before he turned back to his brother. "Mei didn't say anything, not directly," he repeated, looking resigned. "But Ling did."

Ed jumped, his sandwich slipping out of his hands and slumping back onto the plate. " _Ling_? You mean that jackass was there again—no . . ." he interrupted himself, narrowing his eyes and leaning against the table. "Not this morning. Last night?"

Al nodded, guilt twisting his mouth. "Sorry I didn't say anything. It was so late when I got back. . . ."

Ed shrugged off the apology and set about re-stacking his sandwich. "So what'd he say?"

Al at prodded his salad with the fork. "He said . . . he's looking for immortality."

Ed's sandwich hit the plate again. " _What_?"

"No, sorry, that's not quite right." He stabbed a couple pieces of lettuce, the greens becoming an outlet for his frustration and annoyance. "He's looking for the _path_ to immortality."

"What the fuck's the dif—oh." He shoved a hand through his bangs, mindless of the state of his glove. "He wants something he can wave around to make himself look good."

"I guess. He said he wanted to help his clan."

Ed grunted, slapping his sandwich back together and finally taking a bite.

"You really shouldn't take such large bites, nii-san."

He grunted again.

Al sighed, still mutilating his salad. "I guess we should have expected something like this. I mean . . . word travels."

He forced the bite down. "Maybe. Bit late to do anything about that now, though. What about Mei? She actually say that's what she's after, too?"

"No . . . but she didn't deny it, either."

"Fuck."

They both fell silent. Ed stared at his suddenly unappetizing sandwich. Al continued to jab at his salad.

"What now?" the younger boy said after a long moment.

"Now?" Ed repeated. "What can we do? Keep an eye out and make damn sure it doesn't happen again."

"Yeah." After a moment, he added, "You have mayonnaise in your hair, nii-san."

* * *

On their way out of the cafeteria they passed by a group of soldiers from their office. "Oi, Carter," one of the men called out, leaning back from the table. "You gonna fill us in?"

"Give us a chance to pick sides this time," another man added with a snicker. "Or at least duck out of the way."

Breda saw Carter's jaw tighten briefly before he turned to their office mates. "There's no _sides_ , and I'd hardly be the one to go to if there were."

A third soldier nudged the first one. "He'd never tell us, it'd break the _alchemy_ _pact_."

The group broke into laughter and Carter continued on by.

Breda paused to give the men a critical look before following the young major. The exchange had been lighthearted enough, but the exclusionary edge behind it made him uneasy.

"Are they always like that?" he asked as he caught up to the alchemist.

Carter shrugged. "No . . . well, not really. It's the embassy," he insisted. "They don't really know what to make of it."

Breda snorted. "So is the embassy responsible for that 'alchemy pact'?"

"Oh, that." He glanced away, running a hand through his hair. "No, that's just something . . . I dunno where they got that."

"I guess having so many alchemists in one place could make people nervous. Nobody seems all that bothered by the labs in Central, though."

He laughed. "The research alchemists keep to themselves. The Elrics aren't exactly known for that. And the Brigadier General. . . ." he drifted off. "Well, you know the rumors. You don't . . . people don't forget they're around, not like with the researchers."

"So now that _they're_ here, everyone assumes you're taking up with . . . whatever people think they're doing?"

"Something like that. The embassy's just adding to it, I guess."

Breda sighed. "I'm in an office of conspiracy nuts."

The young man's laugh had an edge of uneasiness to it. "Maybe, but . . . can you blame them?"

"I dunno," the lieutenant shrugged as they started back for the office. "I'm not sure I like everyone around me jumping at shadows. Kinda starts to make _me_ nervous."

Carter grimmaced and glanced away.

"What?"

The young man took a moment before answering. "Nothing. Just. . . ." He glanced sidelong and then away, before muttering, "You'd have a hard time convincing anyone there's nothing there but shadows."


	18. Chapter 16

He was missing something.

Roy narrowed his gaze and snapped, and a small burst of flame scorched one corner of the cinder blocks. Ed was right that this sort of practice could only go so far, but getting his precision back wasn't his goal today.

Another snap, another scorch mark.

He couldn't shake the feeling that if he just turned the right way he could expose whatever was lurking in his metaphorical blind spot.

Another snap.

If only things were that simple.

Roy pulled his hand in and snapped, keeping the flame dancing just above his fingers for a few moments before curling it around itself and letting it burn out. Simple, pointless exercises, but they cleared his mind and helped him focus.

Princess Mei and her entourage had an ulterior motive for coming here—he'd known that from the beginning. This Ling who was causing trouble was likely here for similar reasons. If those reasons involved the Stone as he suspected, then things could get ugly fast, and he needed to ensure that didn't happen. He pressed his lips together. Ultimately, it didn't matter if his mother was a part of it or not; he had an entire country to think about.

That much he knew already. He didn't know what they planned to do next, but all he could do was wait and see. The situation itself was not an unknown. His blind spot was elsewhere.

_But if you spend too much time trying to see what's in your blind spot, you'll leave the rest of yourself vulnerable._

Roy smiled, letting a tongue of fire coil toward the ceiling as Ed's words from earlier that year came back to him. They had been sparring, and as was often the case the young man was combining the physical exercise with a lecture. Roy had to marvel at his ability to multitask.

"Your opponent is going to try to take advantage of your blind side," he'd said. Roy could have guessed that and might have said so, if he hadn't been busy trying to block strikes he could hardly see. His shoulder had already been feeling bruised from the younger man's automail. "But if you spend too much time trying to see what's in your blind spot—" Ed's left hand had struck his shoulder just as his foot had hooked behind his knee, and before he'd known what had hit him Roy had found himself staring up at the sky with the wind knocked out of him. "—you'll leave the rest of yourself vulnerable," the blond had finished as he'd dropped down to straddle his lover.

Ed had planted himself dangerously far down on the other man's midsection, and their sparring session devolved into a particularly enjoyable wrestling match. But later on that evening Roy had returned to the point, pointing out that he seemed to be postulating a no-win situation.

"Naaah." Ed had grinned at him in the mirror and leaned back against his chest. "I just mean you shouldn't go around trying to do what you know you can't do. We all got blind spots. The trick is to use what you _do_ know—not just what you can see, but what you hear and what you feel—to figure out what you don't." He'd reached up to touch the eye patch, and then added with a sly grin, "I seem to remember you being pretty good at that kind of thing, once upon a time."

Roy shot a narrow jet of flame toward the cinder blocks. All right then, it was time to focus on what he _did_ know.

A frantic knock on the door made him jump, scattering his thoughts before they had a chance to get organized. He gritted his teeth, as much in irritation at himself as at the interruption.

"Brigadier General, sir." Allensworth's voice had a nervous edge to it. "There's something you should see."

* * *

Yu leaned against the edge of the gate outside Eastern Headquarters and contemplated the building beyond. She'd set out without any clear goal in mind, only a desire to relieve some of her uneasiness by speaking with her son. But now that she was here she realized she had no idea what she would say.

She turned away, hugging her arms to herself as she walked along the outer wall. What _could_ she say to him? She couldn't even pin down what was worrying her.

"‹Why _did_ I come here?›" she muttered, referring to more than her walk down to headquarters. For the princess, or for her son?

She paused and turned back toward the building, frowning. No; if she was to be honest her reasons were mostly selfish. She had come for her own peace of mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a portly soldier rounded the gate then stopped short when he caught sight of her. He stared for several seconds, before she finally raised an eyebrow and asked wryly, "Something I can help you with?"

The soldier blinked, and then grinned self-consciously. "Sorry Ma'am. But your name must be 'Mustang'."

She looked at him for a startled moment, then chuckled. "And you must know my son. I'm told there's a resemblance."

"A bit of one, yeah," he laughed and gave her a mock salute. "Heymans Breda, Ma'am. I was part of your son's office staff a few years ago."

"I see! From what I hear, that was an . . . _interesting_ time."

"You could say that." He looked at her in consideration for a long moment, then nodded down the street. "I was on my way to pick up some coffee. Care to come along?"

"I believe I would, thank you."

* * *

The ring of the phone greeted Ed as he walked in the house. Grumbling, he tossed his coat toward the pegs behind the door and stalked over to the stand. The coat hit the wall and slid down to the floor, but he ignored it in favor of grabbing the phone and putting an end to that irritating noise. "Yeah?"

" _Finally_!" Winry's voice answered him. " _You guys are never home_!"

Ed blinked. "It's the middle of the goddam day!"

" _Well I have to call between classes_!" She huffed. " _I should rig you up an audio recorder, I swear I should_."

Ed shoved his fingers through his bangs and dropped into the chair, slumping down until his head hit the armrest. "So, what is it, then?"

" _What's gotten up_ your _back_?"

He growled under his breath. "Mei. And Ling."

" _Who's Ling_?"

"Never mind. What is it?"

" _Mei is actually why I'm calling, sort of. Since you're_ so _bad about using the phone, I stopped by and chatted with Scieszka—_ "

"I told you why I didn't want to call her!"

"— _and she said that there wasn't anything on Xingian alchemy, specifically, at the first branch when she worked there. There wasn't really much of anything on Xing, actually, except for some old travel logs that were pretty fanciful-sounding_."

"You called to tell me _that_?"

" _Let me finish_!" She sighed, audibly. "But _she said what there had been was_ myths."

"Myths?"

" _Scattered here and there in different books, usually in collections of similar Cretan or Auregan myths. You know, like if someone was comparing the myths of different cultures_."

"Uh . . . Okay?"

He swore he could hear her rolling her eyes. " _And a lot of those myths talk about something that sounds like_ alchemy, _you idiot_."

Ed straightened. "Oh!"

" _Most of them talk about people being healed, or revived_ —"

"'Revived'? Like, back from the dead, revived?"

" _Well, they're myths, remember. Anyway, there was a lot about their wise men and the journeys they went through to become great sages—some of them are really detailed, but they all sounded allegorical, so I don't know how much you could take as literal fact. One called the process 'internal alchemy'_ —"

"'Internal'?"

" _Remember these are all translated by different people, so the term might not be right, but it sounded like the process a sage has to go through before he can 'command and obey the energy lines.'_ "

"Well? What was it?"

" _Calm down, I told Scieszka to transcribe anything that seemed relevant. She'll give you a call when she's done_."

"Great!"

" _But there's something else. People in ancient Xing put a lot of value on gold, not really as money but because they thought it was a 'pure' element. They thought it was connected somehow to longevity_ —"

"—And—let me guess—eternal life, right?"

" _Yeah, but here's the thing. A couple of these myths mentioned some 'Sage of the West' who supposedly came from across the desert some four hundred years ago, and really gave their alchemy a big leap. Ed, they called him 'the Golden Man,' because of his coloring._ "

Ed sagged back into the chair. "Winry . . . you're not implying. . . ."

" _One myth even got specific. It called him, 'a man of golden hair and golden eyes.'_ "

* * *

Roy surveyed the records room with increasing unease. Nothing was in obvious disarray, but many of the shelves were just a little _off_ from the strict order kept by the base librarian.

"No one's touched anything, Sir," one of his lieutenants assured him. "This is how I found it."

He nodded and continued his slow circle of the room. "Any sign of forced entry?"

"The door was locked, Sir." The lieutenant—Samson? Samuels? The man hardly spoke most of the time—seemed to hesitate. Roy gave him a tight frown and he grimaced, but gestured toward the far wall. "Those cabinets, sir. They've been moved."

"Oh?" He turned to the indicated area.

"Not much, but, enough."

"'Enough'."

"To get at the wall, Sir. If that's what someone wanted to do."

"Mm."

Judging by the faded paint and the scratches on the hardwood, two of the cabinets had been moved apart by several inches. There was indeed just enough room for someone to get to the wall, if they so wanted.

Roy knelt to get a closer look, running his finger over a ding near the baseboard. "And what would be on the other side of this wall?"

"I'm—I'm not sure, Sir. A hallway, I think. But I believe it's against the courtyard."

"Hmm." He stood and gave the room one more look. "Bring me a copy of the blueprints. I want the three of you to go over the files in this room. Let me know what's been touched—and if anything is missing."

"Sir."

He looked once more at the exposed stretch of wall and the scratched floor before turning to the base librarian. The man had been standing to one side of the room looking quietly distressed. "When you're done I would also like an overview on what is kept here."

He nodded, his attention on his precious shelves and the inevitable mess the two soldiers were going to make of them.

Roy left the records room, then hesitated at the end of the hall, turning toward the inner part of the complex instead of back toward his office. The records were kept in an inside room for security; it didn't make them impervious, but it meant that if someone did break in they were likely to leave a trail. But as he inspected the hallway that ran behind the records room he didn't see anything that looked out of place or suspicious. He would check again when he had the blueprints, but he wasn't hoping for much. He knew what the lieutenant had been implying, but he couldn't see anything to suggest that someone had transmuted their way through the wall.

He gave the hallway one last scan before heading back to his office, left with the nagging question of who would want to disrupt the records room—and _why_.

* * *

"The coffee in that office is pretty horrible," the soldier explained as they accepted their drinks from the street-side cart. "I'm starting to wonder if there's something wrong with everyone's sense of taste."

"Maybe they've become numb to it," Yu suggested.

"It wouldn't surprise me." Breda chuckled. "I hear Mustang has his own private carafe and stash of grounds—I guess that's the perk of being in charge."

"Mm." Yu sipped her drink as they wandered back toward headquarters. "Speaking of, I understand you helped him clear his name and reclaim his rank."

"Mm?" He looked at her over the rim of his cup in surprise. "Oh, sure, we all did. It wasn't right to begin with. It's a shame it took him three years to contest it."

"I was told the tribunal's original decision was on shaky ground."

"Yep, no evidence." If she wasn't mistaken, for a moment the soldier looked just a bit smug. "The problem was, there wasn't any evidence either way. Couldn't prove that he did, couldn't prove that he didn't, so it came down to whichever side made the more compelling argument."

"And Roy wasn't arguing," she finished.

"Not back then, he wasn't." he took a sip. "Not until Ed came back and kicked him out of his funk."

"Funk?" she echoed. "You'll forgive me if I sound like I'm prying, but Roy hasn't been very forthcoming, and I _worry_."

He nodded. "Sure, sure. My mom's the same way."

"We wouldn't _have_ to worry if you boys would actually talk to us," she pointed out.

He ran a hand over his short hair and laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, fair enough. But you have to understand, with the work we do we can't always be open about things."

"I do understand. But it's not like Roy to get so down for so long." She'd seen him like that only once before, and had chalked it up to the war in Ishval. He'd pulled himself out of it then; why had this time been so different?

"Well. . . ." Breda sipped his drink. "None of us were real sure what was going on in his head back then, to be honest. He didn't open up much. But when you focus on the same goal for a long time it can kinda become your foundation. Then when it's suddenly gone. . . ."

"So is the foundation. I see." Except that she didn't, not completely.

"And he took Ed vanishing like that pretty hard," he continued. "Especially so soon after losing Hughes."

She sighed. "Roy takes loss very personally. He always has."

He let out a huff of laugher. "He and Ed both. Maybe that's why they get on so well."

"Is that so? I was starting to think it was because they get off on arguing."

He sputtered and choked into his cup. "Uh." Breda glanced away as he wiped his mouth, red-faced. "I, um, don't speculate on that sort of thing. Ma'am."

Yu pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.

He cleared his throat and shook coffee off his hand. "Like, uh, like I was saying, with Ed disappearing like that and with nothing to work towards anymore, I think . . . well, most of us had a bit of trouble figuring out what to do with ourselves, and Mustang had it worse."

"And Edward is the one who pulled him out of that?"

"Yeah. Being around Ed seems to do that to people." He grinned. "But with Mustang—well, you know, it's been a bit more personal. Now all that's missing is the flashy alchemy. Otherwise he's back to his old self."

"'Flashy.'" She smiled. "I have to confess, I have never seen him perform his alchemy. But he always was a bit of a show-off."

"Never seen it?" he looked at her in surprise. "You're not the one who taught him?"

"Oh, no. I use a very bastardized method and I wouldn't have wanted him to learn that. I left his instruction to a more capable teacher."

"Okay, I'm no alchemist, but how can you bastardize alchemy? I thought it either worked or it didn't."

"Sort of. But sometimes, one method will work were another failed. I guess you could say I had trouble accepting failure, so I found a workaround."

"So that's where he gets it from," he muttered. Aloud, he said, "Is that why you came here? For the alchemy?"

"Mm."

"So what's the difference? Between our alchemy and what you use in Xing, I mean. I heard it uses a different . . . energy source, or whatever you call it, but the results are the same, right?"

"Usually."

"Usually?"

They had come to the front gate, but Breda paused, seemingly intent on her answer.

"They have different . . . specialties, I suppose you could say. A different emphasis."

"How so?"

She sipped at her coffee to give herself time to organize her thoughts. Even most alchemists didn't ask for this. " _Rentanjutsu_ —I'm sorry, you call it 'alkhestry'—is . . . more delicate. Think of it this way: strike a boulder with enough force and it will shatter. But a vine working its way into the tiny cracks will shatter it just as well. Similar results, but vastly different methods."

"So one's a precision strike and the other's . . . a sledge hammer?"

She chuckled. "In a sense. It's not a perfect analogy, but you get the idea."

"Huh."

"But I suppose the main difference is the focus of research. In Xing, most of the emphasis has been on medicine, and harmonizing energies. Here. . . ."

"The military," he supplied.

"Mm. Not to say it isn't used for . . . that sort of thing in Xing, but . . . the focus is different."

"I see."

Breda seemed to be scrutinizing her, watching for . . . something. But before she could figure out exactly what, he turned away, nodding toward the headquarters building. "I should be getting back. You want an escort in to the general's office?"

"I—no. Thank you." Yu folder her hands around her cup and shook her head. "Actually, I think it would be best if I caught him at home tonight. But thank you, I enjoyed our talk."

The lieutenant nodded, tapping a finger against his forehead. "It was a pleasure meeting you, ma'am."

* * *

Ling slumped, resting his chin against the edge of the roof. "‹This is getting very boring.›"

"‹Master?›"

He waved a hand at the figures on the street sidewalk below them. "‹All this—this _dithering_. Why doesn't someone _do_ something?›"

Ran Fan rocked back onto her heels where she was crouched in the shadow of the roof access. "‹The Chang princess has good reason to be cautious—›"

"‹She's being _too_ cautious!›" He grimaced and shoved his hands through his hair. "‹I was hoping someone would get shocked into action if I stirred things up, but still nothing.›" He sighed. "‹That old woman isn't as easily intimidated as I'd hoped.›"

"‹But it did get her speaking more candidly with Princess Mei. Isn't that what you wanted?›"

Ling groaned, straightening and throwing his hands into the air. "‹ _Yes_ , but that hardly _begins_ to get things done. They're still dancing around the Elric brothers. Those two are key and Mei knows it, but she's too afraid of scaring them off. At this rate the emperor will be dead before we even get the first hint of the Stone.›"

"‹The Chang princess does not have the same deadline as you, Master,›" Ran Fan quietly reminded him. "‹We may do better pursuing somewhere else.›"

The prince folded his arms, frowning as he watched the old woman turn away from the military headquarters and into the residential area. "‹No. The Elrics are the strongest lead we've found. You heard how the younger one spoke of immortality.›"

The bodyguard sighed and rose from her crouch. "‹I heard him quite firmly warning you away from it.›"

"‹That's what I mean.›" Ling unfolded himself and rose into a stretch. "‹No one would speak that way out of hand. It would be, 'impossible,' or, 'only in fairy-stories.' No one would call immortality a 'death trap' unless—›"

"‹— _Master_.›"

The sharp hiss put him instantly on guard. Ling spun, hand on his sword, and scanned the rooftop for what had set his companion off. Ran Fan made a barely perceptible gesture toward a ventilation shaft less than ten feet away. Just visible behind the vent was a small figure, not more than a foot in height, crouched down like a child playing a game. It looked like a miniature suit of armor. Its metallic gleam let it blend in with the ventilation ducts, but Ling was certain it hadn't been there when they'd climbed on to this roof.

The tiny figure startled with a quiet but distinctly human sounding "Ah—!" Then it shuddered, and collapsed.

Ling cautiously approached the metal figure, prodding it with his sword. It shifted when he pushed it, like a discarded puppet, but remained inanimate. "‹An automaton? Who—›"

Ran Fan had melted away, circling around to make use of the sparse cover the roof offered. If the puppet master was nearby Ling was confident his guard would find them, which left him free take a closer look at this thing. He turned the miniature armor over, looking for any marks or sigils, but the metal was pristine. It looked newly made, likely with alchemy.

Off to the side of the building there was a sharp clatter, and a shout. Ling looked up in time to see the younger of the Elrics leap onto the edge of the roof, followed closely by Ran Fan.

Ling sheathed his sword and grinned as Alphonse jumped down to the rooftop. "I should have known! In Xing, we have legends of—" he floundered for the right word in Amestrian, and finally gestured to the automaton. "Of things such as this, but they say only the greatest masters could create them." He strolled over to the boy, one hand resting on his sword. "I should have suspected you or your brother immediately."

Alphonse regarded him cooly, unaffected by the flattery. "I don't think I would care for a 'master' of that sort," He muttered. Then he sighed, and seemed to return to his age as he glanced off to one side and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry for spying on you, but . . . you've kinda been hard to find."

"That was the idea." He spread his arms. "But I'm glad you're here! Maybe we can get lunch and—"

"I've said all I'm going to say about immortality," the boy snapped. "So don't bother asking."

"Can we just get lunch?"

" _No_ , I'm not feeding you."

Ling held up his hands and presented his best disarming smile. "All right, all right, fine. There's plenty more we can talk about here. Like," he pointed to the miniature armor, "maybe how you made that? It's very impressive.

"It's. . . ." He scratched the back of his neck and glanced to the armor. "It's sort of a side effect . . . it's complicated. It's not something that could be taught, exactly."

"You're sure? It would be very useful to me."

"Yes, I'm sure—and you're not an alchemist, you couldn't do it anyway."

He let his expression fall. "No? Ah, well." The prince contemplated the figure. "Still, it seems very useful. It even let you find me."

Alphonse shrugged. "Not really. I figured if I followed Yu-san, there was a good chance I'd find you nearby—what do you want with her?"

"It's . . . complicated," Ling echoed with a smile.

"It's _always_ complicated!" He waved a hand in exasperation. "But she's family and I'm not going to let you hurt her or even frighten her again, so as long as you're here—well, just stay away from her! Better yet, stay away from everyone."

"Well, _that_ doesn't seem fair. All right! All right." He held up a hand to ward off the boy's temper. "I don't mean her any harm. Really—I never did!"

Alphonse smiled wryly. "She's just conveniently placed, is that it? The princess, the brigadier-general, my brother and me—she's just caught in the middle, right? Why are you so set on stirring things up? What's your _real_ goal?"

"I thought I told you. We had a long conversation about—"

"Not _that_. That's obviously just your interim goal."

"Inter . . . uh. . . ."

"What are you _really_ looking for? What are you hoping to use immortality to achieve?"

"Oh, _that_. I didn't explain that?"

"No. You didn't."

"I was sure I'd mentioned. . . ." Ling propped the little suit of armor against the vent. "It's nothing really. Family politics. . . . It won't bother your country. Once we leave, you will likely never hear from us again."

"You can't guarantee—"

"So tell me. Is it . . . ah, what are the words . . . is it your _soul_ you split, or your mind?"

" _What_?"

The prince gestured to the automaton and grinned. "You were spying on me, yes? That means your consciousness was here. So which part was it?"

"It's not that simple—"

"Then was it both? Just how long could you stay in something like this? I have heard rumors—"

Ling jumped back as Alphonse dove toward him. The boy slapped his hands against the vent, and the metal shaft erupted in a blue crackle of energy. The metal warped and twisted, engulfing the little automaton and reforming itself into a much larger suit of armor. It was almost life-size and intricate in its detail, with spiked shoulder guards and a fanciful helm that seemed designed more for intimidation than practicality.

Alphonse glared at them from behind the statue as he clapped his hands together. "You want a _demonstration_? For all the good it'll do," he said, then struck the metal.

A web of lines and sigils flickered over the armor, there and gone too fast to take in. Ling opened his mouth to ask if he could see that again—because it couldn't hurt to ask, right?—when the armor turned toward him, crouched, and leapt.

Ling leapt to one side, sword drawn, as Ran Fan darted in front of him and landed a kick to the armor's side. The automaton slid across the roof, falling down into a crouch and finally skidding to a stop several yards away. Ling kept his sword raised as he looked between the armor and the boy who'd made it, not sure which of them would make the next move.

Al shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "That material isn't ideal."

"—But you can see the potential, can't you?"

This came from the suit of armor halfway across the rooftop; the voice was tinny and echoed around the hollow metal, but it was distinctly Alphonse's. The armor straightened, and gestured to the sizable dent Ran Fan had left.

"This can be fixed easily. No bones to break, no blood to spill, no body to grow hungry or tired—it looks perfect, doesn't it?"

Ling shook his head as the automaton walked toward them. "And no body to age and die. But. . . ." He shifted his gaze back to the boy. "You're not completely _there_ , are you?"

Alphonse shrugged again. "No. But I could be. That sort of thing is possible. But say I did bind myself permanently. What would you have me do with _this_ body—" he jerked a thumb at his chest, "—while I'm imprisoned in _that_ one?"

"Imprisoned—?"

"You didn't think it through, did you?" the armor snapped. "No one ever does." It raised its hands. "This body can't touch, can't smell, can't taste, can't sleep—it won't die but it's not _alive_. You can't _imagine_ what kind of hell that is. But even if you _did_ think it was worth that, it would still be useless to you—"

"—Because when the body died, the soul would die," the boy finished. "The soul can't survive without the body. Not in something like _that_."

Before Ling could respond, the armor shuddered, metal screeching against metal. He jumped back as the automaton collapsed into a heap.

"That's not the path to immortality," Al continued. "That's barely even _living_."

Ling eyed him in his peripheral vision. "And you won't tell me how you did this?"

"No."

"Not even a hint?"

"No! This _isn't_ something you want to mess around with!"

The prince pulled a face as he sheathed his sword. "You two are so _stingy_! I'm not asking for much—"

"Just immortality!"

"Just the _path_ to immortality!"

"You won't find that _here_ & _mdash_ ;" he stabbed a finger toward the crumpled armor, "and I'm not going to stand by and let people get hurt just because some new maniac wants to live forever! You and Mei both need to just—just _give it up_ and go home!"

"I would like to." Ling glanced over the city, toward the embassy. "I am sure _she_ would, too. But right now . . . returning empty-handed would be worse than not returning at all. And I love my country and her people too much. . . ." Grinning suddenly, he threw his hands up in mock defeat. "But if you won't help, I guess I have no choice." He signaled to Ran Fan to follow, and jumped to the edge of the roof. " _Someone_ in this country must have what I need."

"Hey! _Wait_!"

The boy's shout followed them as they leapt down the fire escape. Ling glanced up as they dropped from one floor to the next and was pleased to see that the boy himself had followed as well, swiftly climbing from one landing to next. "That city was in the east, yes?" he called up, just before dropping to the ground and sprinting for the end of the alley.

"Don't you _dare_ bother the people of Liore!" Al shot back. "They've been through enough!"


	19. Chapter 17

The afternoon was getting late, and Yu had to dodge around groups of children and youths coming home from school. She found it oddly reassuring to see signs of ordinary, every day life in the neighborhood her son called home. At the same time she couldn't help but wonder what these families had thought when such an . . . _unusual_ household moved in. Roy had implied that they received few, if any, negative remarks, but neighborhoods had other, more subtle ways to make someone feel unwelcome.

Outwardly, the house didn't look much different than any other on the street. The grass might be in need of trimming, but the citrus tree out front looked recently pruned, and the rose bushes along the front wall seemed to have been hacked back some months before and were just now starting to drop their blooms. Yu suspected Alphonse's hand in most of this, Roy had never cared for gardening and Edward didn't seem the type.

Edward was just exiting the front door as she came up on the house and she paused at the edge of the lawn. He set off down the walk, his face set in a preoccupied frown, then startled to a stop with his hand on the door of his car as he caught sight of her.

"Oh, uh—hi," he stuttered. "Roy's still at work. . . ."

"I know. I thought I would wait for him."

"Oh—sure. Uh—" he glanced back at the porch. "The door's unlocked, if you want to go in—I f'got to lock it. Roy's always getting on my case about that."

She smiled, studying him surreptitiously. The poor boy was so obvious in his moods. "You grew up in the country, is that right? I imagine there's much less need for locks there."

A grin flashed on his face, there and then gone. "Yeah. Not sure our door even had one. . . ." He unlatched the car door, but then hesitated, frowning down at his reflection in the window. "Say, um—" He turned to her, adjusting his glasses with a nervous sort of gesture. "That book that—that talked about the flamel—"

"'Flamel'?"

He gestured to the symbol on his coat. "The snake-and-cross thing. Flamel's cross. Do you . . . d'you know who wrote it? The book, I mean."

"Oh! I'm not sure." She brought her hand to her mouth as she thought. What an odd thing to ask about. "Someone had collected materials from a number of sources, and the original authors weren't always noted. I might know the name if I heard it, but it's been ages since I've looked at that book. Is it important?"

"Oh—nah, it's nothing." He grinned again, the expression thin and brittle. "Just a thought I had."

"If I may ask, where are you headed?"

"Library. It's—there's something I wanted to research. Nothing important."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No—no. It's nothing. I, uh, I'm not sure when Roy's gonna be home. Sometimes he's late. . . ."

"I don't mind waiting."

"Yeah, okay." He hesitated a moment more, looking like he wanted to ask something else. In the end, he shook his head and swung the car door open. "Dunno how long I'll be, either, but there's food—I think—and Al should be home soon."

She smiled and shooed him off, torn between amusement and concern. "I'll manage, I'm sure."

Yu watched as Ed's beat-up old car sped off down the block, surely going over the legal limit. She wondered if it was a mistake not to press him about what was bothering him, but he clearly hadn't wanted to tell her. He and his brother both seemed so naturally honest and open—Ed in particular had a terrible time hiding his emotions. It was odd that they were so reticent about certain things. While in contrast her own son tended to clam up over the most minor of things. Getting information out of him had always been a delicate game, ever since he was a boy.

She sighed, and shook her head as she stepped up to the porch. She was not at all looking forward to this particular round of prying. She let herself into the house, pausing a moment to simply observe. A lot could be told about a person from the way they made their home, but this was the first moment she'd had to really take in her son's living space.

The front room was neat if not a little sparse. But there were pictures on the mantle, and two overflowing bookshelves that made the space inviting. She eased open one of the two doors at the far end of the room and found a small study: a utilitarian desk that was nearly buried beneath uneven piles of paper and notebooks, a narrow bookshelf that held just as many loose papers as books, and—she noticed with a smile—remnants of chalk marks on nearly every available surface. This was the room Edward had retreated to after his quarrel with Winry, and she could see now that it was his private space, his area to withdraw from the world. She felt uneasy intruding on him any further and gently shut the door.

The second door revealed a library. Floor to ceiling bookshelves, most of them overstuffed, a couple small tables with chairs, and not much else. Hardly surprising for a house with three alchemists. She recognized some of the books Roy had inherited from his teacher and some that she had given him. She wondered how many of the other books belonged to the Elrics. A few rare, old titles caught her eye and she felt a bit envious. It was tempting to settle in here to wait, but she knew herself and knew how easily she could get absorbed and forget the matter at hand. As much as she wanted to do just that, it would not serve her purpose in the long run.

Crossing the living room, she hesitated at the foot of the stairs. Curiosity finally won over her sense of propriety and she jogged up the steps. A peek wouldn't hurt.

The first bedroom off the stairs was the master suite. She nudged the door open and scanned the room from the doorway. The room was neat, for the most part. She had a good guess which side of the bed was Edward's based on the state of the nightstand. She suspected the pile of clothes that was _almost_ in the hamper was mostly Edward's as well, though she wouldn't be surprised if a few of Roy's items were in there as well. He tended to like things neat, but wasn't above bouts of laziness. She suspected Roy was behind the neatly made bed and the tidy dresser tops, though.

She pulled the door back to its original position and then headed to the stairs, deciding that she'd invaded enough.

Yu poked around in the kitchen until she found a box of tea. It was western tea, dark and harsh and meant to be mixed with milk, but it was tea. Coffee would not have been kind to her nerves. When the water had boiled, she took the mug into the living room and set it on the coffee table to steep.

The photo album Roy had shown her a few days ago was peeking out from beneath the coffee table. She slid it off the shelf and set it on her lap, letting it fall open toward the beginning.

The first picture she saw made her smile. A teen-aged Edward face down on the couch, sound asleep, while a little girl of maybe two perched on his back and industriously decorated his hair with barrettes and ribbons. She imagined Maes Hughes behind the camera, snapping away and going on about how brilliant his daughter was. Maes had written her many times over the years. His letters had often filled in some of the gaps left in Roy's, but she 'd also been treated to a number of baby pictures, first-steps pictures, first tricycle—up through Elysia's third year.

In his last letter before he had been sent to the north Roy had spoken of Maes' death. It had been a depressing and distressing letter in general, but that part had stood out. She could only imagine how much harder it had hit her son. And the Elrics, now that she thought about it; Maes had obviously been close to them.

The album had only a few more pages of the older photographs. Ed in a black outfit and a red coat like Al wore now, Al in that huge suit of armor. A handful of pictures showed Roy with his office staff. She recognized Breda, and the young blonde woman could only be Riza Hawkeye. Roy had been young to be given a commanding rank and she had worried about him, but he seemed to have found a niche and a set of staff that suited him well, and had thrived—for a while.

The photos jumped forward in time from one page to the next. Ed, now grown, slumped at a table with Al and Winry and two boys she didn't recognize. Everyone was hovering around Ed, who looked a little worse for wear. The smile he was giving his brother seemed weary and a bit brittle, but he was tolerantly letting Winry examine his arm, which looked like a much cruder model of automail than the one he used now.

The next couple pages looked like a mid-winter party. The snowy house could have been on the outskirts of a city, maybe Central. The photos showed the office staff out of uniform and several people she didn't know, surrounded by drinks, food and plenty of laughter. But the image that stopped her was one of Roy and Ed on the ground outside. Roy was sprawled out leaning back on his hands, while Ed was kneeling over his lap holding a snowball. Both of them were covered in snow and grinning up at the camera. At first she couldn't figure out why she found the picture so startling, but then she realized—she couldn't remember the last time she had seen her son so . . . jubilant. They looked like a pair of children caught in some bit of mischief. Looking at this photo of a thirty-year-old man with a patch covering half his face, she saw the little boy she had raised.

Her fingers hovered over the glossy surface, as if she could reach through the image to touch the figures inside. This was what she had been looking for, what she had feared was lost ever since Ishval. Roy had become so withdrawn, so—so _contained_. Anything that came to the surface was calculated and measured. It had worried her, but she'd been at a loss for how to help. She could only do so much if he wouldn't let her in. Now it seemed that Edward had succeeded where she had not. She had only herself to blame: she had gone back home and left her son on his own. She'd had reasons—there were always reasons—but that didn't change the fact that she'd left. Given up.

Yu gently closed the album and placed it back beneath the coffee table. She could lose herself in _might have_ and _should have_ s all evening and be no closer to her current goal. She picked up her tea, cradling the mug between her hands as she sat back in the couch, settling in to wait.

Roy was hiding more than just pieces of his personality. It was past time she got to know her son, and to do that—she needed to know just what he was capable of.

* * *

Ed finally tracked Olivia down in the children's section. He thought about asking one of the other librarians, but he didn't want to deal with the glazed-over look he got whenever he mentioned alchemy. He didn't want to waste time explaining any more than he had to.

Ed leaned over a cart full of picture books. "I need to—what the hell are _those_?" he interrupted himself. Something disturbingly familiar was staring back at him from the far end of the short shelves.

"Hm?" Olivia looked up from the floor behind the book cart, then followed his horrified gaze. Sitting between a potted plant and a display of fairy tales were a pair of plush dolls, one with blond hair and a red coat, the other grey and stitched to look like armor. "You've never seen those?"

" _No_ I've never seen them! Where the hell did those come from?"

She slid a book onto the shelf and picked another off the cart. "One of our patrons made them, a couple years ago. The kids love them."

"Why would—someone make—" Ed stuttered off and finally waved his finger at the caricatures.

Olivia glanced at him over the rim of her glasses. "You're kidding, right? I told you you were our pride." She checked the spine of the book, then scanned the shelf. "And of course everyone was fascinated by Alphonse-kun and his armor."

"That doesn't explain why—why _that_ —"

"Why not? You were already an icon. Then you up and disappeared, so . . . damn, I lost my alphabet," she added in an undertone as she frowned at the shelf.

Ed shoved a hand through his bangs and shook his head. "Fuck, never mind." Leaning over the cart, he snatched the book from her hands and dropped it on top of the others. "Look, I need to check on something. A—a figure from Xing's history. I've got some stuff coming but I don't want to wait that long."

"All right, all right." Olivia pulled herself up with the shelf and shook her legs out. "This historical figure have a name? Xing has a lot of history."

"Uh . . . um, well, the myths called him the 'Sage of the West,' I think."

She paused in the middle of pushing the cart out of the way. "So do you want history or mythology?"

"Um . . . both? I think?"

The librarian pulled a face as she maneuvered the cart to the end of the shelf. "They're kind of at opposite ends of the stacks."

"Fuck. Uh. . . ." Ed rubbed his forehead. Why couldn't that old bastard be something _simple_ for a change? "Um, mythology. I think. He was a real person but the things he did were turned into myths and legends and stuff."

"All right, we'll start there." She started toward a part of the shelves Ed wasn't all that familiar with. The books he looked for were usually several rows farther in. "This have anything to do with alchemy?"

"Yeah. I think this sage guy taught them a bunch of alchemy or something—are you really the only librarian who knows about alchemy here?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "No, not really. But it intimidates them, I guess. So when I'm on shift, as soon as someone says 'alchemy' they get sent to me. Here we are." She pushed her glasses into place and ran her finger over the weathered spines. "Let's see, eastern folklore would be over here . . . here's Xing."

"Sciezka—um, a friend of mine, used to work at Central's First Branch—said some were in collections of myths from different areas."

"I think we have a couple of those . . . here." She pulled two more books off the shelf and handed them to Ed. "Most of the folklore books are in the children's section but I don't think those are going to have what you want. These'll have more detail." She considered the books in her arms, and added two more to the pile.

"How much of these deal with alchemy? Or what sounds like alchemy?"

She smiled as she led him to one of the study tables. "Xing doesn't really separate their alchemy out from the rest of life. Especially ancient Xing. The flow of life is the flow in the veins of the dragon is the flow of the seasons—stuff like that. It's fascinating, but it can make it hard to find something specific."

"Wonderful," Ed grumbled as he dropped into the chair. "Fucking insane system, it's a wonder their science progressed at all." He ignored her amused snort as he skimmed the first book's the table of contents then flipped to the back in hope of an index. "How about 'gold'?" he said after a moment. "They also called this guy 'the Golden Man'."

"That might be a little easier to find." Olivia sat down and pulled a couple of the books toward her, muttering, "What the hell, it's a slow day."

"Anything that talks about the 'Sage' or the 'Golden Man'," Ed emphasized, grateful for the second pair of eyes. Normally he would have dragged Al along with him, but his brother was nowhere to be found. "If it has a description of him, that's even better."

"I'm sorry our collection isn't as big as Central's, there's not much call for Xingian folklore and myths here."

Ed grunted. "I don't think there's much call for them over there, either. I doubt they replaced the ones that were lost when the First Branch burned."

Olivia sighed and muttered something about the tragedy of lost books.

A quick skim of the first book revealed nothing useful. It had a few mentions of what was probably alchemy and he made a mental note to come back to those later, but nothing on the Sage of the West. The second book had a couple of oblique references, but it only went so far as to describe him as a "master over form and matter" who could "impose his will with a thought." Intriguing, but not concrete enough.

He was midway through scanning the third book when Olivia waved a hand in front of his face. He startled, looking up with a frown. "Wow, you really do mono-focus," she commented. Just as he opened his mouth to retort she dropped a book on top of his. "Here. 'The Dragon Emperor speaks with the Sage of the West'. It's the only mention I could find."

"Finally." Ed straightened and set the other book on the table, giving this one his full attention. "Figures he'd be impossible to find. Reclusive old bastard."

The story seemed to be an allegory told in the form of a conversation. It _did_ talk about alchemy, or the eastern version of alchemy, underneath the literal meaning of the words. It was actually a pretty fascinating comparison of eastern and western theory and Ed had to fight himself to keep on task and not get absorbed by it. So far it was too general; the Sage could be any reasonably-skilled alchemist.

That was, until the very end of the fable.

The Emperor entreated the Sage to share the source of his great wisdom, and the Sage declined, stating, "no man would wish to be swallowed by truth and spit back out, if he but knew the price."

"Shit." Ed sat back in the chair and rubbed his eyes.

"Problem?"

He pointed to the book. "Does the end of that story mean anything to you?"

Olivia rotated the text and frowned at the page. "You mean this 'swallowed by truth' bit? I figured that was some metaphor that got lost in the translation. Maybe something to show that the Sage was a wiser man than the Emperor. It would hardly be the first bit of folklore that sounds like nonsense."

Ed shook his head. He wanted to believe that. But the terrified eleven-year-old boy in his head was too loud to ignore.

Olivia sighed. "Why do I get the feeling you're not going to explain?"

Ed grimaced and pushed his hand through his bangs. "It's nothing—nothing you want to know about. Trust me."

"But it makes sense to you," she said slowly. "It's more than nonsense or metaphor."

He stood, flipping the books shut and stacking them on the edge of the table. "I got what I needed. Thanks for the help."

"Of course. Here, I'll get those."

She shot him a concerned look over her glasses as she picked up the books, and Ed wondered just how much was showing on his face. Not for the first time he wished for just a bit of Roy's opaque exterior.

Those thoughts were sitting heavily on his mind as he turned for the exit, preoccupying him so much that he didn't see the woman waiting at the end of the stacks until she stepped directly into his path. He stopped just short of running into her and fell back a step, but his scowl lost some of its edge when he recognized who it was. "Li Xue? What're you doing here?"

"Sorry." She bowed politely. "I did not wish to interrupt your studies."

"Just how long have you been there?"

She made a vague gesture. "Not long." Ed narrowed his eyes. "Your brother left in quite a fit this morning, and the princess is very concerned. She sent me to find him."

"Well good luck, I haven't seen him since lunch," Ed admitted. "I thought he had a late shift at the bookstore but he wasn't there."

She nodded. "Yes, I did try there first." She hesitated. "But Princess Mei is concerned for you both."

"You mean she's concerned we won't give her what she wants," he shot back.

Li Xue's smile reminded him a little of Roy. "She is concerned for many reasons. But it is not my place to question."

"Whatever." Ed pushed past her. "I'll let Al know next time I see him."

She fell into step beside him. "I am also concerned—about my aunt and my cousin. And also for the princess, I fear she is hunting for dangerous things."

He shot her a sideways glance. "Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"

"Maybe you can tell me," she offered. "And maybe I can tell you about the Sage of the West."

* * *

Yu was halfway through her second cup of tea when the front door opened. Roy paused in the doorway for only a moment, nodding a greeting before closing the door and shedding his coat. If he was bothered at all by her being there, he didn't show it. But then, why would he be? He wouldn't know why she was there. "Edward let me in before he left," she said as she placed her mug on the coffee table. "I hope it isn't a problem."

"Of course not." He hung his coat behind the door. "Did Ed say where he was going?"

"The library, I believe. He said something about research."

His lips twitched into a fond smile, but he seemed distracted. As he took a seat in the recliner his gaze was on some midpoint between the chair and the coffee table. "I should have known. He likely won't emerge until he gets hungry."

"The library must close eventually."

"And he's been shooed out at closing more than once." He paused, considering her. Yu kept silent. "Is something on your mind then, Mother? This doesn't seem like a social visit."

"It—no. You're right in that." She glanced down at her hands. "It's been . . . it's been quite a day."

Roy seemed to be waiting for something more. Of course she couldn't expect him to make this easy. But now that she was here she hardly knew how to proceed.

"Alphonse exchanged some . . . heated words with Princess Mei this morning," she started.

He made a noncommittal noise. "I can't say that's entirely unexpected."

She glanced up. "Oh? He seems like such an even-tempered boy."

He lifted a hand in acknowledgement. "Yes and no. Al's temper is buried deeper but it runs just as hot as Edward's. Given what the princess seems to be digging into I have been half expecting one or the other of them to reach his limit."

Yu raised an eyebrow. "Well. It sounds as if you know more about her plans than even I do."

The smile he gave her had very little warmth. "I doubt that. This was one puzzle that was fairly easy to piece together. The biggest question on my mind was how far she would be willing to go."

Yu sat back and regarded her son as coolly as he was regarding her. "I see." That raised a number of questions. But only one she was particularly interested in right now: "And just how far are _you_ willing to go?"

"That depends."

"Does it? We all have an upper limit to our actions, regardless of the motivations."

"The motivations make all the difference. As do the consequences." He paused, then added, "But _my_ actions are not the problem here. How many lives is she willing to risk?"

"How many—?"

"Because it's never just one. No, it takes much more than that. Mei might be tempted to think the price was worth it—others have thought that before her—but would she be as willing if she knew it was a false hope?"

Yu let out a frustrated sigh and stood. "I am so _tired_ of everyone talking around this!" she said as she started to pace. "You've made it clear you know what she came here to chase. Alphonse obviously knows. I am sure Edward does, too. So let us just say it: the Stone. Mei came here to chase rumors of the Philosopher's Stone. Now can we please move on from there?"

"Indeed." Roy stood and crossed to the liquor cabinet. "I still had some small hope I was wrong," he added in an undertone.

"Denial can be such a comfortable illusion," she muttered. She folded her arms as she watched her son pour himself a small measure of some amber liquid. "Mei is neither stupid nor heartless. If the stone is as bad as you have been hinting—"

"It's a good deal worse." He downed the alcohol and set the glass on top of the cabinet. "Alphonse would never have told you the true price. Whatever you're imagining—it's worse."

" _Tell_ me, please."

"No."

"If I can explain to the princess—"

" _No_." His voice hardly rose, but something in his face stopped her cold. "This isn't knowledge to toss around lightly." In a quieter voice, he continued, "That knowledge has wounded this country more than you know."

"You're right, I don't know," she said, softly. "I don't know because _you won't tell me_."

He turned back to the cabinet. "You don't need to know."

" _Need_ to—?" She stepped forward and took his arm. "I _need to know_ because you're my _son_."

Roy turned, and the look on his face almost made her back up. "This goes beyond me, Mother. Well beyond."

"I'm _asking_ about you," she pressed. "What happened four years ago that caused so many rumors? What was your part in it? Why were you demoted and sent north?"

"Does it matter? The military reversed its decision."

"Why? What had you done? Why did it take _three years_ for you to contest it?"

He smiled, though there was little humor in it. "You must have been told the gossip already. General Johansen always did have a soft spot for you." He turned away, toward the unlit fireplace.

"Is that what you would have me believe?" she shot back. "Petty gossip and rumor?"

"Believe what you will."

"I _will not_!" she snapped. "I am asking for the _truth_. What happened that day?"

"Why, Mother?" His voice was tight, controlled. "Are you planning to turn me in for another court martial?"

"I couldn't care less about the military's laws—"

"Then why? What are you getting at?"

"I am asking if my _son_ is a _murderer_!"

Silence. Yu could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Roy stared at her, his head turned to see around his blind side, his expression closed. After a long, tense moment, he finally spoke.

"I've been a murderer since Ishval."

She shook her head. "Orders—"

"That doesn't make the people I killed any less dead." He turned to face her. "It doesn't change the fact that I killed them."

"There's a difference!"

"Maybe there shouldn't be."

"It's—you are—diverting the topic. Roy Mustang, _did you kill_ Fuhrer Bradley! Did you go to that man's house that night and kill him!"

"Yes. I killed him."

The quiet statement seemed to suck the air out of the room.

"I went to the Fuhrer's mansion that night with the express purpose of killing him," he went on. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Yu shook her head, words caught up in her throat.

"Did you want to hear about how he was waiting for me? About the cellar that burned around us as he dodged my flames again and again? The way his sword felt as he dragged it through my shoulder?" His voice steadily increased in intensity as he spoke. "Or did you want to hear about how I killed him—and killed him, and killed him and killed him and _killed him_ until he finally _stayed dead_. Or about the child—" Roy's voice caught, disgust and several other emotions tightening the lines around his one visible eye before he turned away, his face obscured by the eye patch. "Well. I had my reasons, but it ultimately makes no difference." He stared at the cold fireplace for a long moment before adding in a quiet, tight voice, "I believe you have your answer. Yes, I'm a murderer."

Yu shook her head again, trying to force the world back into some sort of sense. "Roy—" she choked out, not sure what she could say.

"That's what the military trained me for, after all. To kill."

She pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away, shaking her head once more.

"Maybe you should tell the princess to keep that in mind."

* * *

Ed flicked on the light and tossed his coat over the back of the recliner. With a groan, he pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. He'd been hoping someone would be home by now. His mind was over-full and he was in desperate need of a sounding board.

The ornate wall clock Roy liked so much chimed the hour, and Ed peered at it through his fingers. He hadn't realized it was _that_ late. He raised his head and took a better look around the room. Even when Roy worked over he never stayed at the office _this_ late. And come to think of it, where was Al?

_Maow_!

Ed leaned over and peeked into the kitchen. Magpie was planted on the floor in front of the cabinets where his evening dish of canned food was usually set. "Hasn't Al fed you yet?"

_Maowaow_!

"Guess not."

Ed set about getting the cat food ready as Magpie wound around his legs, his mind was elsewhere. More than once he nearly ended up kicking the demanding feline when his attention drifted.

A bottle of whiskey and a glass on top of the liquor cabinet proved that Roy _had_ been home, but the house had been completely dark. Neither Roy's coat nor Al's was hanging behind the door and they were both meticulous about such things. Al never would have let the cat go this long without being fed, and Roy would have put food down just to shut the thing up.

"Where the hell is everybody?" Ed asked as he set the dish down. The little grey cat ignored him in favor of gulping down some food. "I know, I know—if it isn't 'food' or 'play' it's beneath your notice." He absently scratched the cat's neck, then stood. He scratched a hand through his own hair, knocking his glasses askew and getting the nose piece tangled. He jerked the glasses free as he poked through the bottom floor of the house, looking for a hint as to where his brother and his lover might have gone.

The young man's eyes fell onto the empty mug on the coffee table, then slid to once again the whiskey bottle. That's right, Roy's mom had been by earlier. He hadn't thought to ask why, but thinking back now, she might have seemed a little . . . unsettled.

Ed sighed and grabbed his coat.

* * *

Ed had been hoping to be wrong. This wasn't Roy's usual place to drink, not when things were going well. This bar, this bar stool had some significance Ed didn't know, but whatever it was wasn't pleasant. He'd only come here twice over the past year, on days that were exceptionally bad, when he'd wanted to simply drown out the world for a while. That didn't speak well of how the evening had gone.

Ed grimaced and crossed the floor, ignoring the pointed not-stares from the bar's patrons. Everyone in East City knew who they were and what they were to each other, Roy's position was too visible for them to go unnoticed. Few were stupid enough to say anything outright, but the disapproval in places like this was palpable. He could usually brush it off, but tonight he just wasn't up to it.

Ed stopped just short of where Roy was slumped at the bar. "No. You don't get another 'day'."

Roy moved his head only enough to acknowledge the young man's presence, his focus on the amber liquid in his glass. "I wasn't aware we had a limit."

"Well, there is," he declared. "Or there should be. What the hell happened, Roy?"

Roy sighed audibly, and knocked back the last of his drink. To Ed's relief he shook his head at the bar tender as he pushed the empty glass across the bar. "I wish I knew." His speech was careful, but still clear. Drunk then, but not terribly. "Too much has gotten out of hand . . . too much I never wanted to deal with."

Ed sighed. He stepped up behind his lover and put his hands on his shoulders, trying to offer some small support. "C'mon," he said in a gentler tone. "I hope you weren't planning to drive yourself home after all this drinking."

The older man leaned back against his chest and sighed. "Mm. I hadn't thought that far."

"I can see that." Ed glared death at a man down the bar who was giving them a sour look. "Come on, idiot. It's fucking late and I'm tired."

"Tell me. . . ."

He turned back, startled by the defeated tone. "What?"

Roy shook his head against Ed's collar bone. "What should you do . . . after telling your mother . . . that you're a monster."

Ed closed his eyes and leaned in to the top of his head for a moment. So that was how things went. He sighed, and squeezed the other man's shoulders. "We should go," was all he could think to say.

"Mm." Roy pulled away and pushed himself to his feet, steady perhaps out of stubbornness but steady nonetheless. Ed waited while he paid his tab, then led the way out to the car, silently promising pain to anyone who looked at them sideways. It wasn't improving his already sour mood. By the time they got to the car the young man was almost itching for a target.

"Anyone who makes a 'wife' crack over this is getting flattened," Ed grumbled as he dropped into the driver's seat and slammed the door. "Then I'm coming after you."

"Mm-hm."

Ed kneaded the steering wheel while Roy got himself settled, trying to get his temper under control. Normally his lover weathered his outbursts with finesse and humor, whether he was the cause of them or not, but when he got like this all their normal rhythms were off. The last thing Ed wanted was to make this worse—neither of them needed another 'bad day.'

"You would make a poor housewife," Roy muttered, breaking the silence. "You never remember the cleaning."

Ed stared at Roy's dark profile. The older man's head was tilted back against the seat, his posture weary, but he wasn't crumpled in on himself like Ed had feared he would be. Not quite. The blond let out a small, relieved sigh as he started the car. "That's 'cause it's your job."

"Mm?"

"The remembering of it, I mean."

"Mm."

If Roy was willing to joke with him, however half-hearted, then he wasn't completely lost to this black mood.

They made the drive home in silence. Neither of them was the kind to force conversation. If Roy wanted to talk about what was bothering him then he would in his own time, Ed wasn't going to pry.

The only lights on in the house were the ones Ed had turned on. Magpie glared at them from the back of the couch, irritated in this disruption in his routine. It was rare that he didn't have at least one person to curl up with and pester in the evening. Ed sighed, and mentally promised to make it up to the cat tomorrow. Not that the cat would understand that and not that he should care if the cat cared, but it still bothered him. Al must be rubbing off on him.

Ed frowned as he followed his lover up the stairs. It wasn't like Al to be out this late, certainly not without leaving a note. He knew his little brother could more than take care of himself, but he also knew better than most just what sort of nastiness could be lurking out there.

But there was little he could do about that right now. He shoved those thoughts aside as they got to the bedroom, and turned his full attention to the man in front of him.

Roy started to fumble with his jacket, but Ed gently pushed his hands aside and unfastened the uniform for him. The older man wasn't so drunk that he couldn't take care of himself, but that wasn't the point. Ed touched his cheek and held his gaze for a moment. He was never good at putting this sort of thing into words.

Roy sagged, and sank onto the bed with a sigh, gratefully turning himself over to his lover's ministrations. Ed undressed him with care, giving his skin little caresses as it was exposed, nothing more than a light brush of fingers against a shoulder, hip, or calf. Mute offerings of comfort. Roy leaned into his touch, shifting to lift and arm or a leg when needed, letting himself be directed. Ed kissed his thigh as he knelt to pull on his pajamas, a gesture that on some other day might have been suggestive. Tonight, Roy only sighed, and covered the younger man's hand with his own when it slid against his hip, a silent thank-you. Ed kissed his fingers before standing to wrap the pajama shirt around his shoulders.

Roy's fingers tangled with his as he finished with the buttons and he paused, taking in the mute request. He braced a knee against the mattress and slid an arm around his shoulders as the other man leaned into him, his face pressed into his neck. Ed sighed and ran his fingers through the short, dark hair, wishing there was some platitude he could offer that would make things better. But he knew that useless, empty words would be little consolation so he kept quiet.

When Roy finally pulled away, Ed stroked his hair one more time, catching his fingers under the strap and sliding the eye patch away. He pressed a kiss over his ruined eye, lingering there for a moment before moving to turn down the bedclothes. He waited while Roy settled himself down, then tucked the covers around him with uncharacteristic tenderness.

Ed sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Roy's shoulder, as the older man sighed and curled himself around his lover, turning his head and to peer up at him in in the dim light. Ed rubbed his arm and waited.

"You know . . ." Roy started, his voice quiet and just a bit slurred. "You know the worst of me, and you still. . . ."

Ed squeezed his shoulder. "'Course I do. Now go to sleep, idiot."

He studied the younger man like he was trying to piece together just how this could be. Eventually he sighed and turned into the pillow, his hand resting on Ed's hip as if to verify his presence.

No matter how hard Ed tried to stop it, anger kept welling up inside him. How _dare_ she knock him down like this. Roy had worked so hard to pull himself out of the black mire he'd spent three years living in, she had no right to push him back into it. His own _mother_.

Ed pinched the bridge of his nose as he continued to rub Roy's shoulder. The small, reasonable voice that he so often ignored was reminding him that he didn't know the whole story. He might not have known Yu long, but he knew her well enough to believe she wouldn't deliberately hurt her son. To be fair Roy could sabotage himself just fine given the right prompting. But sitting here with lover miserable and drunk, it was very hard not to get angry.

The cacophony of the phone shattered the quiet and Ed jumped. He dove for the nightstand and snatched the receiver, cutting the thing off in mid-ring. " _What_??" he hissed.

" _Nii-san? Where have you been all evening_?"

Ed froze off-balance and bent over the bedside table. " _Al_? Where—" Roy shifted behind him and he stopped, sliding off the bed and moving as far away as the phone cord would allow. "Where the hell are _you_?" he continued in a hiss.

" _Um . . . well. . . ._ " He could picture his brother fidgeting. " _Most of the way to New Optain, I think_."

" _What_?!" Ed glanced back to the bed and dropped his voice again. "What the fuck are you doing out _there_?"

" _Chasing Ling_." Al let out an exasperated sigh. " _He's determined to go to Liore. I'm trying to keep him from causing trouble but whenever the train stops he vanishes before I can drag him to the line back to East City_."

"Fuck." Ed dropped his head into his hand. "What a fucking wonderful night."

" _Sorry, Nii-san_."

"Just . . . just do what you can. Throw Armstrong at him if you have to."

" _I might anyway_."

"Good."

" _Is everything okay there_?"

"It's. . . ."

" _It's not, its it_."

Ed grimaced behind his hand. "We'll manage. You worry about Ling. The last thing we need is another mess."

After a few more exchanges Ed hung up the phone. He closed his eyes and took a breath. There could only be one reason the _Xingian prince would want to go to Liore, and the thought of the people of Liore having to deal with— _that_ —again. . . . Al would keep it from happening if anyone could, but he didn't like the thought of his little brother having that burden—again.

The sheets rustled. "Ed? Something wrong?"

Ed sighed and stepped back to the bed. "Not really." He sat down and brushed the other man's hair back. "Al's out babysitting Ling, that's all. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Mm. . . ."

"Go to sleep. You're going to feel shitty enough in the morning as it is."

Ed continued to stroke his hair as Roy sighed and turned back into the pillow. Gradually his body relaxed, and his breathing deepened.

Ed bent to rest his head on his lover's shoulder, encircling him in a protective sort of frame with his arms. Everything had been going so well in the past year or so that he'd been back on this side of the Gate. All he wanted to do now was pull them away from the world and pretend nothing was wrong. Too bad life didn't work that way.

"We'll manage," he murmured to the sleeping form beneath him. "That's what we always do."

  



	20. Chapter 18

He stopped with a sigh, just keeping himself from banging his head against the end doors in the last car. Al had a pretty good idea where Ling and his bodyguard were hiding, but he'd been hoping to avoid climbing all over the outside of the train like a hoodlum—he thought he'd left behind the need for such things years ago.

But whining about it wouldn't get them back to East City any faster. Bracing himself, Al turned the latch and started to work the door open, fighting against the worn track.

"Hi!"

"Ack!" Al jumped and spun, dropping into a defensive crouch in reflex. Ling was perched on the back of a bench, smiling cheerfully and looking as if he'd been there the whole time. "Just where have you been?" Al admonished. "Riding outside of the train car is illegal!"

"Is it?" the prince mused. "I am not familiar with all of your laws."

Al huffed. "It's also stupid. Now are you coming, or are you going to make things difficult?"

"In a moment. I am having some trouble with your language."

"It's not that hard to understand—"

Ling wave a hand. "Oh, no, no, you've been very clear. But—what does it mean to say 'poser'?"

The young man blinked, startled out of his crouch. "What?"

"To call someone 'poser.' It did not sound very nice."

"It's—uh—well, it's not." Al rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to come up with a simple explanation. "It means you think someone is . . . uh . . . not fit for their position. That they're fooling people. Something like that. Why?"

Ling gestured toward the front of the train. "Someone in the first car spoke of your friend the general in that way."

"What? _Why_?"

"Or I think it was about your general. He said . . . um, what was it . . . 'We need to hurry and get that poser out of East.' He said some other words, too, that sounded even less nice."

" _What_?" Al's hands clenched into fists as he turned to stalk toward the front of the train. "Who said that?"

"Oh, woah, hold on—" Ling jumped down and grabbed the back of his shirt. "You can't go up there _now_ —"

Al shrugged out of his grip. "Oh yes I can—"

He grabbed his arm this time. "And do what? Do you think if you face this one person it will stop the problem?"

Al grit his teeth and reluctantly stopped.

"This sort of thing—if this is what I think," the prince continued, "is never one or two people. If you don't get to the root it will just grow back."

The young man exhaled slowly, before jerking his arm free and whipping around. "What do you care about it? All you want is immortality."

"I want the _path_ to immortality!" he said with an exasperated sigh. "But it doesn't serve _me_ to have someone else in charge at East City, and all the commotion of one power overthrowing another would be a huge delay."

Al rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry we're not meeting your schedule."

"This is not some whim of politics." Ling's voice had gone quietly serious. "This is the future of my country. But—" he held up a hand to forestall any protests, "I don't want this at the expense of _your_ country, either. I think I was not clear on that before."

Al eyed him warily. "When did you get all magnanimous?"

The foreigner shrugged. "Trade between Xing and Amestris is a significant part of our economy. I would rather foster that than see it go back to how it was under your last leader."

Al pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right. Fine. I'll just accept for the moment that you have an interest in keeping Brigadier General Mustang in his position. What are you suggesting we do? I can't just ignore this."

"Oh, no. Not at all." Ling rocked back on his heels with a devious, slightly dangerous smile. "But if you let it play out long enough you can stop them when it will hurt the most—and maybe find who is behind it."

"Let me guess: they're headed for Liore?"

"Unless there is another major desert town in this direction."

"You better not have planned this."

"How could I have planned it? I haven't gotten into your politics."

Al shook his head. "Fine. But don't think this gets _you_ off the hook. Liore has been through enough hell already."

Ling held up his hands. "Yes, fine! I told you: I only want the path."

"Yeah, you did," Al growled. "And I told _you_ : 'the path' is bad enough."

* * *

The sound of the phone jolted Roy out of a restless sleep. He stared at the bedside table as jumbled images from dreams jostled against memories of the previous evening, his head too thick and aching to sort it out. The phone should have rung a second time by now and he frowned at it, willing it to give him something concrete to focus on, something that made more sense than the position of the hands on the clock beside it. The alarm should have gone off hours ago.

A soft _mrrp_ made him look down. Magpie was curled up next to his pillow, a few inches away from his nose. The cat regarded him through slitted eyes, no doubt complaining that the bedding had shifted. He couldn't figure out why Ed hadn't shut the cat out of the room like he normally did at night. Magpie usually spent the night with Al.

Reality finally seeped through the fog of the hangover and Roy groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He should have known better than to drink that much when he had work the next day . . . no, he had known better. Of course he had.

He shut that line of thought down as threw the covers back and sat up. Magpie squawked and scrambled off the bed, and he watched the feline shake himself out and then stalk out of the room, tail stiff and twitching. It made for a good excuse to wait until the room stopped spinning.

Ed's voice became clearer as he made his way down the stairs. He'd stretched the phone cord into the kitchen and seemed to be trying to cook breakfast and argue at the same time. The smell of food made Roy's stomach roil and he stopped well back in the living room.

". . . What are you talking about? I haven't published any . . . _That_ thing? Fuck, I put that out on a whim _years_ ago . . . It _is_? Why . . . Look, it's not that I don't want to help, but we're in the middle of—" Ed waved a spatula, no doubt flinging bits of food around the kitchen, "—of a bunch of _shit_ right now so unless that thing is about to geyser . . . I _know that_. I was _there_ , remember? So is it about to blow or can it wait a few weeks? . . . That's what I thought." He tucked the phone against his shoulder and turned to the skillet on the stove. "Now I really need to—what? . . . What, no, I barely had time to, you know that. What does that have to do with . . . It _does_? Why didn't you tell me that sooner?" Roy rubbed at his temples and gave up trying to follow Ed's side of the conversation. ". . . Fine, yeah. Does it—shit, I can't get into that right now, I _really_ can't. Can you bring it here? . . . No, I told you. If it's not dire it's going to have to wait, I can't go running off right now . . . I don't know! . . . Fine, fine. Yeah, that's fine." He caught sight of Roy and his expression flicked from irritation to concern. "Look, I have to go. _Yes_ , right this second. Get out here with that when you can and I'll see what I can do. Yeah. Yeah—'bye."

Ed leaned out of the kitchen and tossed the receiver onto the base. "Hey. You, um, up for breakfast?"

Roy grimaced, and thought he should put off answering. Instead, he said, "It's after nine."

"Yeah. I thought you could use the sleep. Don't worry, no one's expecting you until after lunch. I called you in."

He tried to force the full significance of that past the pounding in his head. "You called me in."

"Yeah. I said you ate something that disagreed with you."

Torn between gratitude and feeling appalled—the ramifications of missing half a day of work in his already shaky position wasn't something he wanted to think about—Roy closed his eye and rubbed a hand over his face. Finally he nodded and turned to head for the bathroom, deciding that he could deal with this after he felt more human.

Once he was showered, shaved, and at least outwardly presentable, he returned to the kitchen. Ed greeted him by thunking a glass of water down on the table as he sat down.

Roy stared at the glass, one more thing that was _off_ in a whole morning of _off_. "I would prefer coffee."

"You don't like my coffee."

"You make bad coffee."

"My coffee is fine and _drink that_." Ed jabbed a finger at the water before turning back to the counter. "It'll help the headache."

Roy sighed and picked up the glass as ordered. He couldn't muster up the energy to be annoyed. It was far easier to just go along—go through the motions and get through the day, day after day . . . it had worked before.

Buttered toast was set before him and he obediently ate it, finding his stomach didn't object too much. As soon as the toast was gone, eggs were set down in its place and he ate those as well, mechanically repeating fork-to-mouth. He was almost startled when the plate was taken away empty.

"Here." Ed set down another half-full glass of water and a couple of tablets. "And you've still got plenty of time to make the coffee the way _you_ like it."

It wasn't until he was reaching for the percolator and the coffee grounds that Roy thought to ask, "Who was on the phone?"

"Russell. I guess he's been in Central for a couple weeks and he ran into Winry. He needs a way to contain that Red Water spring more permanently and he thought. . . ." He drifted off, his expression pensive as he watched the other man fill the percolator. "Never mind. It's nothing that can't wait. Put enough in there for both of us."

Roy did as he was told without giving it a thought.

As they were waiting on the coffee Ed's hand brushed against his arm, shyly hooking around his elbow. The sudden display of affection threw him and he briefly froze, looking over just as a blond head pressed against his shoulder with a quiet mumble of, "I like your coffee better anyway."

The corner of Roy's mouth twitched as Ed ground his forehead into his shoulder. He almost couldn't swallow the sudden lump in his throat. He pressed Ed's hand to his side and buried his nose in his hair, letting himself soak in his lover's presence for a moment, hoping that maybe he could draw in just a little of that indomitable spirit, that strength to keep moving forward in spite of everything.

"Maybe someday you'll learn to make coffee properly," he murmured.

Ed butted his shoulder again. "Not likely. Not so long as I have you here to make it for me."

Somehow, the rest of the morning was a just a bit less bleak.

Ed stopped him as he was heading out, slipping between him and the door. "Hey." His hands were resting lightly on Roy's hips, just enough contact to keep him focused as he held his gaze. "We'll get through this. Yeah?"

Roy let out a sigh, and managed a ghost of a smile. "As long as we keep moving forward, right?"

There was something achingly sincere and relieved in the young man's grin. "Never said it'd be easy. But it beats standing still."

He had barely nodded before he was caught up in one of Ed's bone-crushing hugs, the kind that nearly lifted him off his feet.

* * *

It was mid-morning on a weekday, and the park held mostly small children and their parents. Yu watched as one young family took advantage of the mild weather to feed the ducks. The older child, a girl of maybe three or four, threw chunks of bread and squealed as the birds descended in noisy mobs, while the younger child followed on unsteady legs, half fascinated and half afraid, never more than a few steps away from the mother trailing behind them. The mundanity of the scene made Yu smile in spite of herself, as she remembered similar outings when her son had been small. What she remembered most was him constantly looking up at her to ask _why_. Why were the girl ducks brown and not the boy ducks. Why did the grass grow here and not over there. Why were these plants not okay to eat. Ever the scientist. She had known back then that he would follow her into alchemy; his fascination and concentration whenever he watched her transmute something had delighted her. Of course she had worried as any mother would when he had joined the army but he had so much of his father in him that she had foreseen that, too. But now—

Now—

_Yes, I'm a murderer_.

Yu pressed a hand to her mouth, the pond blurring in her vision.

It had been an unspoken assumption that he had killed under orders, he'd been in a war. But there was a difference—despite what he'd said there _was a difference_. Another person's orders, kill or be killed—that was not the same as—

_I went to the Fuhrer's mansion that night with the express purpose of killing him_.

She choked, squeezing her eyes shut.

Her only child, her baby—what had happened to him? What had she missed that had turned her sweet boy into—this?

_That's what the military trained me for, after all_.

That couldn't be the full story.

Yu sucked in a breath as she grabbed onto that thought, wrestled it down, and looked at it.

That wasn't the full story. Roy was leaving pieces out—large pieces. Why had he done it? What had been the impetus to drive him to do something so horrible?

She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. Never mind the morality of it—what had driven him to do something so _risky_? Because the Roy she knew, the boy she had raised, had been nothing but a meticulous planner. A politician even before he could talk. She had no trouble believing that he would risk his life, but not without a damn good reason. Only if the benefits outweighed the risk. What was it? What had he left out?

And how, in the name of all that was rational, had he _gotten away_ with it? How could he have left no evidence—not even a body?

_Or did you want to hear about how I killed him—and killed him, and killed him and killed him and killed him until he finally stayed dead_.

Yu stared over her hands at the rippling water.

_Killed him and killed him and killed him and killed him until he finally stayed dead_.

Why hadn't the strangeness of that struck her before?

"‹There you are!›"

Yu quickly wiped her eyes and looked up as her niece sat down beside her on the bench.

"‹I've been looking for you all morning,›" the younger woman continued. "‹So has the princess. What's wrong? Did something happen?›"

Yu looked down at her folded hands. "‹No. Yes. I . . . I don't know. I needed to think.›"

Li Xue regarded her with a frown. "‹Did Roy say something to upset you?›"

"‹It . . . you could say that.›" she hedged. "‹Never mind that now. You wanted to speak with me?›"

Her niece studied her for a moment more, but relented with a shake of hear head. "‹I spoke with Edward yesterday evening. He'd been researching the Sage of the West and I offered to tell him what I know of the legends.›"

Yu blinked, startled into looking up. "‹Is _that_ what he'd gone off to research? Whatever for?›"

"‹He wouldn't say. Not directly. But the way he was speaking. . . .›" Li Xue frowned and glanced away, one hand fiddling with the buttons on her blouse. "‹I wish I was more confident in Amestrian. Several things about our conversation are bothering me, but I can't be certain I was hearing him right.›"

"‹What did he say?›"

"‹That's just it, it wasn't the words he said, it was the meaning he seemed to put behind them.›" She sighed. "‹All right. The first oddity was that he had a very . . . _familiar_ way of talking about the Sage of the West.›"

"‹As if he knew the stories?›"

"‹As if he knew the _person_. I know it sounds crazy and maybe it's just one of Edward's quirks but that was the sense I got. He kept calling the Sage› 'old man' ‹and› 'old bastard' ‹and even› 'that moron' ‹at one point. It might be nothing.›"

"'That moron'? ‹I know Edward isn't big on propriety but that seems a little much even for him.›"

"‹I thought so, too. But that isn't the only thing bothering me. He wanted to know details: when the Sage came to Xing and when he left, where the Sage traveled, who he met, and if he left any materials behind. Especially writings. Oh, and if anyone else had been with him. He specifically asked if the Sage had had a female companion.›"

"‹Someone from Xing, or a foreigner?›"

"‹A foreigner. A woman who would have come to Xing with the Sage, I think.›"

"‹I wonder why? I was never certain the Sage was a real person, or at least not a single person.›"

"‹Neither was I. I reminded him that legends often get exaggerated or outright fabricated but he brushed that off. He wouldn't see the Sage as anything but a flesh-and-blood person.›"

"‹What made him so certain?›"

The younger woman could only shrug. "‹I wish I knew. But that wasn't our whole conversation. We also spoke about the princess and the way Alphonse lost his temper yesterday morning.›"

Yu grimaced, her mind going back to what her son had said on that the night before.

"‹I'm certain he know's what she's looking for. Both of them do.›"

"‹Did Edward put a name to it?›"

"‹No. He refused to. But he said enough. Auntie—does _Mei_ know what she is chasing?›"

"‹How could she have come here if she didn't?›"

Li Xue waved that off. "‹You and I both know that the emperor's children will grasp at anything that might hint at an advantage. She would have come to chase smoke if she thought it would help her. But does she know _what_ it is?›"

She narrowed her eyes, regarding her niece with a tight frown.

"‹You said before that the symbol Edward and Alphonse wear reminded you of a legend, a legend Mei might be chasing—Auntie?›"

Yu stood abruptly and paced along the edge of the pond, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She shook her head, though whether it was in response to her niece or her own thoughts she wasn't sure. "‹It . . . Roy . . . spoke of that 'legend' last night as well. But only to say it was horrible. He didn't . . . wouldn't . . . say anything more, not on that.›"

"‹Auntie. . . .›"

She shook her head again. She wasn't ready yet to speak of the rest of that conversation.

Li Xue stood and put a hand on her arm, stopping the older woman's pacing. "‹Auntie. Edward made it clear that if Mei continues along that path she will make him an enemy. And . . . I don't think he'd be the only one.›" Yu started to speak but her niece cut her off with a shake of her head. "‹And _they_ know what the stakes are. Intimately. I'm certain of that much.›"

"‹Did Edward _say_ —›"

"‹No. But the fact that he _wouldn't_ say was telling.›" She paused, considering her words. "‹I would not want to make an enemy of those boys. Or of my cousin.›"

Yu pressed a hand to her mouth.

_That's what the military trained me for, after all. To kill_.

"‹No,›" she said through her fingers. "‹No, that would be . . . very bad.›"


	21. Chapter 19

"‹The princess does not share her thoughts with us,›" the woman muttered, her expression pinched. "‹She left in a fit of anger.›"

Yu deliberately unclenched her jaw and willed herself to have patience. "‹And _what_ made her angry?›"

The attendant muttered that she didn't know, but her eyes shifted to a pair of figures in the courtyard.

The older woman narrowed her eyes as she regarded the two. One was a servant and the other was a low-level alkestry practitioner. She knew them both by sight, but couldn't put a name to either one. They'd kept themselves in the background, rarely speaking to anyone in the princess' circle. That Mei had noticed them now couldn't be a coincidence.

Sighing in exasperation, she marched out and fixed them with a stare. "‹Now then. Something one or both of you did set the princess off. I want to know what, and where she's gone.›"

The servant looked at her with practiced innocence while the other refused to meet her eye. "‹I said nothing to Princess Mei.›"

"‹I don't have time to play around with weasel-words and bullshit!›" Yu snapped. "‹I need to find Mei and I need to find her _now_.›"

The two exchanged glances, then looked away. The servant was still stone-faced, but the other looked uncomfortable. Yu focused on this one.

"‹In that case, shall I guess?›" she said with feigned sweetness. "‹It shouldn't be too hard. Mei is quick-tempered but not rash in her actions. She wouldn't have run off unless it was important. That most likely means the Stone. Oh, don't pretend to be shocked! I know word has spread. Now then, if she left in anger that means something has not gone to plan, or gotten in her way, or someone has—ah, yes, there we are.›" She smiled thinly at the practitioner's growing discomfort. "‹She fears someone might get there before her. Some sibling rivalry, perhaps? I was wondering why Ling had gone silent after trying to stir things up.›"

Now the servant was the one to look uncomfortable, just for a brief moment.

"‹Now why would she have run off so quickly unless she thought he was close to their goal.›" Yu continued. "‹Or . . . he was about to get beyond her reach. That's it, isn't it. So. Just where is it he would be heading?›"

As soon as she was satisfied she'd gotten everything she could out of the uncooperative pair Yu hurried out of the embassy. She would have to find a taxi to take her to the train station; Mei had too much of a lead to waste time walking.

She was so focused on estimating the distance to the station and the cenz she had with her that she almost brushed right by her niece. It took the younger woman grabbing her arm to make her pause.

"‹What _is_ it?›" she snapped. "‹Mei has gone and I don't have time—›"

"‹I know,›" Li Xue cut her off. She jerked her head at the two soldiers Yu just now noticed by the curb. "‹ _They_ need to find her, too.›"

"‹What? Why?›"

The young woman looked less than pleased about something as she pulled her aunt toward the military car parked at the curb. "‹Carter came here this morning and found Mei was gone—I'll let them explain while they drive.›"

Lieutenant Breda looked apologetic as he opened the rear door for them. "Sorry, Ma'am, there's a bit of a legal snafu the princess might be running into. If we could find her before then . . .?"

"The train station." Yu didn't bother to soften the clipped words as she climbed into the car. "And just what sort of problem _is_ this?"

"Uh. . . ." Carter hesitated, but after a look from Breda that she couldn't read he went on. "No one from the embassy is supposed to leave the city without an escort. It was a paperwork error!" he insisted, turning to the back seat with an apologetic cringe. "The Brigadier-General sent in the correction but it hasn't cleared Central yet. It wasn't—we didn't think it would take this long, and Mei—the princess hadn't mentioned traveling—"

"Easy, Carter, I think she gets it," Breda interrupted.

"I do," Yu said, her words measured and controlled. "I suppose this was explained when we arrived?"

"I wouldn't know," Breda hedged. "It's probably not a big deal. Lieutenant-Colonel Philips just wants to play it safe until we can get it straightened out."

Yu barely waited for the car to stop before shoving the door open. She wanted to be done with the entire, ridiculous situation: the royal family's squabbles, the Stone, Amestris' military—all of it.

Commotion on one side of the platform stopped her before she'd gone three steps. As she watched a man reeled back and another dropped to the ground. Yu grit her teeth; she couldn't see the culprit amidst the small crowd that had gathered, but she hardly needed to.

"Out of my way!" Mei's shrill shout rang out clearly above the din of the station. "You have no authority over a daughter of the emperor! I go where I will!"

Yu ran over and pushed her way through the crowd. "Mei!" she shouted. "‹For heaven's sake, don't make things worse.›"

"‹ _I'm_ doing nothing!›" Mei snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the station security. "‹But if they don't let me on a train soon I swear I'll—›"

"‹ _Mei_! Enough!›" She gestured to the man who was picking himself up from the ground. "‹You're out of line already.›"

"‹How dare you—›"

"Ladies!" Breda had come through behind her and he stepped up to the princess now, his hands raised in placating gesture. "Okay. It's just a misunderstanding. Why don't we step over to the station office and so we can straighten this out—"

"I will not!" Mei cut in. "I have lost too much time already. That train leaves in two minutes and I _will_ be on it or—"

"That's enough!" The station master blocked her path and reached out to stop her. "I don't care if you're the Queen of Creta, you're not going to cause problems in my station—"

Mei grabbed his hand before he could touch her shoulder. With a simple twist and a well-placed pinch the station master dropped to his knees with a cry. "I'm done talking!"

Yu's appalled cry of "Mei!" got lost as station security shoved in front of her. She stumbled back, and then stumbled again from a pull on her arm. "Hey!"

"‹Auntie, no, let Mei fall on her own.›"

She yanked her arm out of her niece's grip. "‹It's not Mei I'm worried about!›" The soldiers would have trouble using their firearms in this crowd but Mei wasn't so restricted. In her present frame of mind no one was safe. "‹At this rate—›"

The train whistle cut her off; Yu whipped around in time to see Mei plow through several people to break free of the small crowd, but just at that moment a curtain of fire erupted between them and the departing train.

Yu shrieked and twisted away, cringing behind her arms. Li Xue grabbed at her and pulled her away. She stumbled after her for a few steps before steeling herself enough to raise her head, her heart pounding in her ears.

The station was calm. The train was picking up speed, all but free of the platform now, but on the platform itself time had momentarily frozen. Mei stood near the edge, a short way off from the knot of station attendants, fists clenched and nearly vibrating with rage. Three meters away in a space now cleared by the wary crowd, Roy stood, one gloved hand slightly extended. No one else dared to move, seeming to wait for a cue from one of them.

Roy met the princess's ire levelly, holding her eye for a long moment before lowering his arm.

"My apologies." His voice carried easily in the sudden quiet. "But I'm afraid we must discuss a few things before I can let you take that train."

Mei braced herself, preparing to launch at the first opportunity. "You—how _dare_ you—"

"He won't find anything." Roy's steps were carefully measured, his voice cold. One hand was on his hip. The fingers of the other rubbed against each other, slow and ominous. "There is nothing to find. I won't have you—or _him_ —stirring up trouble—for _nothing_."

Yu shuddered, reaching back for her niece. Li Xue squeezed her hand, shaking her head. If she was trying to convey something, it was a lost cause, because Yu couldn't tear eyes from the man squaring off with the princess.

This man—this man with a cold face and a ruthless look in his eye—she didn't know him. This wasn't her son.

* * *

The princess was pissed. Beyond pissed, and by now the whole station knew it. Mustang had moved them to the stationmaster's office to explain the situation but Mei's screaming rant had rendered walls and doors moot. Breda sorely wanted to plug his ears but didn't want to risk adding insult to injury. Especially once the girl realized none of her yelling would do her any good; if there was one thing Mustang was used to dealing with, it was tiny alchemists with explosive tempers.

Speaking of:

"Did he really shoot flames?" Ed was standing on tiptoe to peek into the office. "I can't believe I missed it! What happened? Did anyone get scorched, or—"

" _Down_ , Ed." Breda shoved the young man back from the door. "There's a bit more at stake here."

"I _know_ that." Ed shot him a withering look but obligingly took a few steps back. "Shit; all we'd need is those two making an outright contest of it."

"You know what's going on?" He continued to herd him away from the others. "What set this off?"

"Kinda. Ling's gone off toward Liore—"

"Ling?"

"Another of the emperor's kids. They're all fighting with each other. He's heading to Liore, and if Mei thought Ling might get an advantage—okay, _what_?" Ed finally dug in his heels and refused to go any farther.

"What do you think?" Breda said in an undertone. "Mustang comes into the office at noon looking ready to burn the shorthairs of anyone who sneezes wrong and you think I'm _not_ going to ask you? What the hell happened last night?"

Ed's mouth tightened, and his eyes cut over to two women sitting on a nearby bench. Breda followed his gaze with a frown.

"Family problems?" he ventured.

"It's . . . I don't know the details," Ed finally admitted. "but I know _something_ happened between them. And Roy. . . ."

"Didn't take it well?"

The young man shoved a hand through his hair, his jaw tense and a certain look in his eyes that set off alarm bells. Breda took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Ed. . . ."

"I'm not gonna do anything!" He snapped. "Shit. What _could_ I do? I'd just—" He let out a sigh that was mostly growl, and said through his teeth, "I'd probably—just—make it—worse. Don't look at me like that, I know when I need to lay off. Okay, so I sometimes go ahead anyway, but I'm not an idiot."

"Wow. You really have grown up."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks. Look, I'm not here 'cause of that. I'm here to keep an eye on Mei."

"I don't think stirring _that_ pot is going to end well, either."

"I'm not looking to start anything. I'm not! I'm gonna keep _her_ out of trouble."

"Your way of not causing trouble usually ends in property damage."

Ed glared, but swallowed his retort when the door to the stationmaster's office flew open, hard enough that it slammed against the wall and reverberated back. Mei stormed out with a scowl that promised death to anyone in her way. Bystanders scrambled to give her a clear path out of the station.

"Ah. Guess that's my cue."

"Try not to exacerbate things."

"Yeah, yeah." Ed started after Mei, then paused. "But really, be honest." He looked back with a momentary grin. "It _was_ cool, wasn't it."

Breda shook his head but smiled anyway. "Yeah, it was cool. It was like having our old Mustang back."

With one final brief grin Ed trotted off after the irate Xingian princess, and Breda glanced into the room she'd just left. Mustang was talking with the stationmaster, who looked more than a little rattled by the day's events. Mustang looked—shuttered. Closed off. A casual observer might mistake it for coldness, but Breda knew his former commander better than that.

Now wasn't the time or place to show concern. Breda stepped back—and bumped into Major Carter.

"Should—someone—go with them?" He flicked a nervous hand toward where Mei had just noticed Ed shadowing her. "Her?"

Breda shrugged as they watched the princess turn her anger to this new target. He'd feel sorry for Ed, but—this was _Ed_. Maybe he should be feeling sorry for Mei. No, scratch that; he felt sorry for the immediate area. "Philips does want us to make sure there's no trouble. Go ahead."

" _Me_?"

He resisted a grin as he clapped the young man on the back. "You are the senior officer here, Major. _And_ the alchemist. Don't worry, I'm sure Ed's more than a match for her. Just try not to get caught between them."

That probably wasn't very kind to the poor kid, but they did need to keep tabs on Mei.

Most people at the station had gone back to minding their own business, though with more than a few wary glances. The station security seemed to be picking themselves up all right; thankfully Mei had been too focused on the train to do much more than bruise, though they were no doubt humiliated. Breda exchanged a few words with them before moving to his main target.

"Ladies." He nodded to the two women. "Sorry about the excitement. Need a lift back?"

"We do," the older woman said as she stood. "The sooner the better."

The younger woman—Breda was sure he'd heard her name somewhere along the line, but he had a hell of a time with the Xingian pronunciations—said something to her aunt, who shook her head, her lips tight and her eyes fixed ahead.

"I'm sure this'll get straightened out soon," he assured them.

"It seems like an awful lot of . . . fuss . . . over a technicality."

"Bureaucracy's like that."

Yu's gaze shifted to the office door. "Is it bureaucracy that dictates such tactics? No; don't bother answering that." She abruptly turned away and headed out of the station, her face holding the same closed-off expression he'd seen a moment ago.

Breda glanced back, and found Mustang paused in the doorway. For a second he considered how that display earlier would have looked to someone who wasn't used to being around the Flame Alchemist, and thought he could maybe appreciate some of Yu's reaction; but all he could see was a man who was far too stressed.

"Sorry, Ma'am," he said again as he hurried to catch up before she reached the car. "I think the brigadier-general's a little short-tempered today."

Pain and fear flashed across her face before her expression shut down completely, shuttering off tight against the outside world. "Is that so," was all she said before she sat down in the car and refused to look at anyone.

Breda thought better of probing further.

* * *

Roy switched off the overhead light, then knelt on the bed next to his lover's prone form. It had been a long, trying day, but it was finally over. For a few hours, at least, Roy could pretend his life wasn't poised to once again come crumbling down around him, and focus on something a little more intimate. He caressed the back of Ed's thigh for a moment before digging in to knead the flesh more firmly.

"I heard you redecorated the industrial sector," he remarked.

"It needed to be cleaned up anyway—owfuck right there fuck—besides, I put everything back how it was."

Roy smiled as dug his knuckles into the knot of muscle. "You did. And from what I hear, it was a pretty entertaining show. Major Carter was quite impressed."

"Mei probably wasn't. But it— _owowfuck_ —it kept her busy."

"Yes, and I'm grateful." He rubbed some of the pungent analgesic salve into the sore area. "This is worse than usual. You might want to get your leg checked."

"It's just stress. Always makes it act up."

"Hmm."

"Besides, that's helping."

Roy continued to dig into the tight muscles. It was nice to be able to make a positive difference for a loved one, for once.

"Anyway," Ed smiled at him over his shoulder, "I hear you used your flames today."

His lover's obvious jubilation was infectious, despite his own low mood. "Mm. For better or worse, I did."

"What d'you mea— _OWshit_!"

He pinned Ed's leg and leaned on the knot. "I mean there could be backlash. From Mei and the embassy, certainly. But some in the military might not like to be reminded of my flames."

"You're the fucking Flame Alchemist, you've been using flames since you _joined_ the military," he pointed out through gritted teeth.

"And most of my superiors have been frightened by it." He eased up, caressing the back of Ed's leg. "They want a weapon, but not one that thinks for itself. Not one who might turn."

Ed twisted around, brushing his fingers against Roy's knee. "You think it'll be a problem?"

Roy sighed. He hadn't shared the details of his hearings from the year before, so Ed wouldn't know that some in the Brass had argued that he was too dangerous and unpredictable to reinstate, too much of a loose cannon. The uncertainty of the events preceding his court martial had been all that had kept that argument from winning. "Perhaps not. This would have happened sooner or later, one way or another."

He sighed again, turning away from his lover to put the salve away. To say the timing was poor would be an understatement, but what was done was done. How he was going to deal with military politics on top of an infuriated foreign princess wasn't something he wanted to think about right now.

The possible fallout within his own family was something he didn't want to think about at all.

The hand on his back made him twitch. Ed rubbed his shoulders, coaxing the tension away. " _You_ okay?"

"I'm fine."

Ed tugged him around, studying him with obvious concern. "No you're not."

He grimaced. In some ways, he was still getting used to this more mature Edward who had returned from beyond the Gate. That keen awareness, the seeds of which had always been present but overshadowed by a brash, adolescent temper, could still take him by surprise.

"I'll have to be," he pointed out.

Ed leaned past him to turn off the bedside lamp. "Not until tomorrow."

Once under the covers in the darkened room, it was impossible to keep the full weight of the last two days from falling on him. Once one support peg crumpled, everything he'd been trying to keep at bay toppled, one after another, until he felt he would suffocate under the weight. He didn't try to fight it; falling apart was much less frightening when Ed's arms were there to keep him together. Roy clung to him, face buried in his neck, holding his breath to keep from sobbing, hating himself for the need. Ed stroked his hair and rubbed his back. He didn't offer any reassurances or platitudes, but what was left unsaid was enough.

After a long moment Roy took a shaky breath, then another, until his breathing was steady. Only then was he able to shift back, just enough so he could pick out the other man's features in the dark. Ed's automail was tucked against the edge of the pillow, and he rested his cheek on the smooth plate of the upper arm. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was comforting.

"Back then, when you were searching," he started, unsure how to put his thoughts into words. "Did you ever . . . just . . . want to stop? Give up?"

"Yeah." Ed's ready answer surprised him. The young man smiled, a flash of white teeth in the shadows, and stroked back his hair. "Of course I did. More times than I like to think about. But I was afraid that if I ever let myself stop, I'd never get moving again. So I kept taking one more step forward." His hand slid down and cupped his jaw, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "But I wasn't alone. Me and Al . . . we leaned on each other. A lot."

Roy touched his wrist. "What about over in . . . that other place."

"Germany. Yeah. That was harder. That's why I wrote those stupid letters."

Roy cherished those "stupid letters." After that night in the outpost Ed had never mentioned them again, but Roy had found the battered notebook left on the table one day after Ed and Al had gone to visit Liore. It now rested in his writing desk, under a small stack of photographs. "Glad I could help. Even if it was by proxy."

"Don't let it go to your head, but . . . you've always been helping. Ever since I met you."

As the impact of that declaration was sinking in, Ed leaned in and kissed him, softly, and tugged him back against his chest. "Go to sleep. There's nothing that can't wait until morning."

Roy breathed in Ed's scent, sweat and grease and metal overlaid with the sharp bite of the analgesic, and a faint but unmistakable hint of ozone. He smiled, realizing that he wasn't the only one who'd had a return to form today. Feeling that the world was, if not put to right, at least a little bit more right than it had been, he finally let himself relax.


	22. Chapter 20

Ling watched Ran Fan pick at one of the greasy meat buns Alphonse had been kind enough to buy for them the last time the food cart came by. Now that he wasn't trying to drag them onto the opposite train the young man was being almost friendly, but something was still bothering the bodyguard. He waited; if it had importance, she would say something.

Eventually, she spoke up: "‹Why did you tell him that?›"

Ling was stuffing the last bit of his bun—his third or maybe fourth, but who was counting?—into his mouth. "Mm?"

She sighed, and continued to fidget. Al had insisted she ride inside the train car and remove her mask, claiming she was making the other passengers nervous. "‹What you said about the trade between our countries. Why tell him that?›"

"Mmm—nn." Ling swallowed, then clarified, "‹Because it's something he'd believe.›" He shrugged. "‹Does it matter? It's true enough.›"

Ran Fan lowered her eyes without responding.

"‹Anything that gets him to let us stay,›" he continued. "‹There's more to learn here, I'm certain of it.›"

Alphonse was frowning at them from the opposite bench, as if sheer force of will could make their conversation intelligible. "You realize that's rude."

The prince flashed him a grin. "Sorry, sorry! We don't mean to be rude. Your language is not so easy sometimes."

The boy sighed and leaned back in the bench. "I'm going to have to learn Xingian, aren't I."

"The spoken language is not so hard," Ling assured him. "But the written one . . . well . . . it is very different from yours."

Al waved that off. "It's just another code. I want to learn your alchemy and I don't like the thought of relying on translators."

"But your alchemy here is so powerful—why would you want to learn ours?"

"Power isn't everything." Al narrowed his eyes. "If you really want to _help_ your country instead of just ruling over it you should keep that in mind. That is what you want to do, isn't it?"

Ling frowned. That was an odd turn for the conversation.

"I've met a few power-hungry people," the young man continued with a shrug. "You don't fit the type."

The prince gave him his best grin. "Are you sure? I could be hiding it well."

Al snorted and shook his head. "You couldn't hide it _that_ well. A person's nature always comes through in the little things. You're an irritating, entitled ass, but you're not the bad kind."

Ran Fan pressed her lips together and turned away, but not before he caught the smile.

"Well," Ling muttered, glaring at his bodyguard, "I thank you for that, I guess."

Al's grin suddenly looked dangerous. "You should. If I thought you were one of the dangerous ones we'd've been done a long time ago."

"That sounds like a warning."

"No. Not a warning." The train slowed, and finally screeched and squealed to a stop. Al stood, stretching out his legs while they waited for the handful of other passengers to disembark. "That's just a fact."

"‹I think I was just threatened,›" the prince mused.

Ran Fan's hand was on her weapons. "‹Sire, should I—?›"

Ling waved her down. "‹No, no, not _now_ when we're just starting to get somewhere. Besides, I'm starting to like this kid.›"

"‹Sire, he . . . I'm not sure he's really a _child_. It's. . . .›"

Ling shrugged as they followed Alphonse from the train. "‹His _qi_ is off. I know.›" He grinned. "‹Why do you think I'm so certain he knows more than he's telling us?›"

A tall man with blond hair and a cigarette in one corner of his mouth met them on the train platform, greeting Alphonse by hooking an arm around his neck and ruffling his hair. "Hey you! Missed you in East—where _were_ you?"

The young man squirmed free and smoothed down his hair. "Ask _him_ ," he said with a wave in Ling's direction. "You didn't need to come all the way out to meet us, Havoc."

"Are you kidding?" He took a drag and then waved the cigarette out toward the desert. "After that telegram you sent, it was all I could do to keep Armstrong from coming out here himself. These two with you?"

"Yeah. They—it's—I'll explain on the way."

"Anything I should know _now_?"

"Well—" Al glanced around the platform. "Just—watch for anyone else who heads for Liore, okay? I'll explain on the way," Al repeated before Havoc could voice the question he obviously wanted to ask.

"Yeah . . . okay." The man sounded dubious, but he shrugged and gestured to the edge of the platform. "Truck's over there—where's your bags?"

The young man sighed. "We . . . don't have any." Ling turned up his empty hands in agreement. "It's a long story."

"Isn't it always, with you Elrics?" Havoc mussed Al's hair again and pulled him toward the truck. "Good thing it's a long drive."

* * *

True to his word, Alphonse gave Havoc a brief run-down as they drove out into the desert. He left out any mention of immortality or the Stone, but _something_ in what he said was making the soldier give them suspicious looks in the rearview mirror. Or that might have been because Ran Fan was wearing her mask again.

"So you think someone's trying to undermine Mustang," Havoc clarified, "but you're not sure how or why?"

"No. But I had a thought," Al said. "The upcoming trials. Is there any way they could . . . make Liore look bad? Or . . . make it look like Roy has an agenda for supporting them."

"Eh . . . probably," he hedged. "You'd do better to ask Armstrong that, he knows more of the particulars. But if these guys planted the right kind of evidence . . . yeah. Yeah, it could hurt."

"Hurt the trial," Ling interjected, "or hurt your friend specifically?"

Havoc squinted at him in the mirror. "And who are you again?"

"Twelfth son of the Emperor of Xing."

"He didn't come here with the embassy," Alphonse muttered.

"Is that so. . . ." Havoc looked over at the young man sitting next to him. The significance of the non-verbal exchange was not completely lost on Ling, despite the fact that he couldn't see Alphonse. The soldier had just been warned that they weren't completely trustworthy. "What's your part in this, then? I can't see why Xing would care about some legal dispute over here."

Ling folded his arms, leaning back as much as the cramped seat would allow. "Generally speaking, no, we wouldn't. But . . . right now it helps me to help you."

Havoc glanced at Al again, who sighed. "He wants something. He's hoping to get it from me by being nice."

Ran Fan tensed, but Ling guffawed. "Guilty! But it's no bother to me to help you out a bit. Call it an apology for frightening your friend's mother."

Havoc shot him an alarmed look over his shoulder. "You—what?"

"Never mind that," Al insisted. "I don't know the details of the case—would it be hard for them to plant something?"

"Um. . . ." Havoc rubbed his forehead. "You _really_ ought to talk to Armstrong, I'm just gathering witnesses. But—well, the problem is testimony is really all we have. Everything got wiped out when—well, _you know_. If they somehow make it look like Hakuro and his men had good reason for how they acted, or—shit—make it look like Mustang is trying to twist things—"

"There's no way they could get anyone from Liore to turn, though."

"If they were clever enough, they would not need to," Ling offered. "But I am only guessing. I could guess better if I knew what happened. . . ."

"Forget it," Alphonse snapped.

Havoc gave him a long stare. "Why do you want to know about _that_?" To the boy in the seat next to him, he added, "Is _that_ what he's trying to get out of you?"

"More or less."

"Listen, pal, a lot of good men and women died that day, and we're not about to let that happen again—"

Ling held up his hands. "I'm not looking to kill anyone!" he insisted. "I'm not planning to _hurt_ anyone, if I can help it."

"For what it's worth, I believe he means that," Al admitted. "But intentions only count for so much."

"It is interesting," Ling mused, "that you are so _very_ against this."

* * *

Armstrong turned out to be a tower of muscle and booming voice, who greeting Alphonse by sweeping him into a crushing embrace and pontificating about family and the bonds of friendship. Al took it all with a grin and some good-natured squirming. As soon as he was released he turned to introduce Ling and Ran Fan. For a brief moment Ling was afraid he would try to give _them_ the same welcome, but instead the huge man extended a hand and some kind of traditional greeting that had been passed down in his family for generations—Ling lost the thread of his speech about halfway through but accepted the hand and returned the greeting with good cheer.

Their arrival had drawn a little gaggle of children, standing now at the edge of an imagined perimeter and exclaiming over Ran Fan and her mask. In Xing a royal bodyguard is understood and usually goes unremarked, blending into the background by tacit understanding. Under this unaccustomed scrutiny his companion had gone tense, unsure how to react. Ling solved this by making faces at the children until they burst out laughing.

The children were herded away by a young woman with pink in her hair. "You'll have to forgive them! We don't get many visitors here."

Ling grinned. "They are only being children. I'm sure we're quite a strange sight to them."

Armstrong put one massive arm around the woman's shoulders. "Allow me to introduce Rosé Thomas, head of the orphanage and valued member of the city council. She's been instrumental in putting this city back on its feet after the tragedies suffered four years ago."

Alphonse cleared his throat. "Speaking of, I think we should get to why we're here." He shot Ling a pointed glare. "Why _some_ of us are here, anyway."

"Then let us retire to the council chamber," Armstrong suggested. "I confess I am eager to hear you elaborate on the contents of your telegram."

Once in the privacy and the relatively cool air of the council chamber, Alphonse again ran through what through what Ling had overheard on the train. Ling tuned him out, and instead watched the rest of the group as the boy spoke. Until now he had only observed from a distance or interacted with the young alchemist one on one. He looked to be no more than fourteen or fifteen, easily the youngest in the room, but none of them treated him as junior. Havoc's affectionate teasing of earlier had switched to deference and Armstrong spoke to him a an equal. Interesting.

The residents of Liore showed little surprise at what Alphonse told them. They looked more resigned than anything. A man in his forties rubbed a hand over his face and glanced out at the low angle of the sun. "Well, if they haven't gotten here by now, we likely won't see them until tomorrow. That gives us a little time to get the word out."

"What do you plan to do?" Alphonse asked.

"Nothing, unless we catch them at something," the man replied. "Doesn't mean we have to be hospitable. Many of us don't want to be dealing with this trial at _all_ , let alone these underhanded parts."

"Turning our backs won't make it go away," Rosé said, with perhaps a little more force than necessary. She had been watching Ling and Ran Fan and only now turned to the others. "If _we_ don't walk through this, some other town will be made to."

"I know, I—I didn't mean—"

Armstrong stood. "The weasel gets the eggs when the bird leaves the nest. We will guard our nest with diligence. Never fear! I will employ the investigation techniques passed down in the Armstrong family for generations and track this pestilence back down to its source—"

"Yes! Thank you," Al interrupted. "We really need to do that. I don't think this is the end of it."

"Indeed not. I have been anticipating something like this ever since Brigadier General Mustang's demotion was reversed, and even more so once we started laying the foundations for the upcoming trial. If we are not diligent, Liore may once again become a pawn in someone else's scheme."

"It's not gonna come to that."

The brief meeting concluded soon afterwards. Rosé approached Ling and Ran Fan as Alphonse and Armstrong left to talk strategy. "I suppose you and your—friend—will be needing lodgings?"

"Do you have any with room service?" Ling ventured.

"Room—uh. No. Sorry."

"Pity."

She gave him a flat look. "You'll forgive me, but—Ling, is it?—I don't quite remember what Al said your part in all this was?"

"I overheard the conversation on the train."

She scrutinized him, her expression guarded. "Well . . . I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, for Al's sake. But if you're here to bring harm to this town or her people—" Rosé cut herself off, her lips pressed together. After taking a deep breath, she continued in a quieter voice. "Well . . . maybe just remember . . . the desert has a way of swallowing things up."

* * *

Ed caught himself rubbing his arms and deliberately tucked his hands under his elbows. It was stupid—he knew it was psychosomatic—but after using so much alchemy the day before his skin was crawling.

Sometimes he wondered if it _was_ all in his head; after that many trips through the Gate, maybe his sanity had a few nicks and scratches. Maybe he only heard the echos because he expected to hear them. Because he knew the truth of the energy he was using.

"I see you've appointed yourself Mei's babysitter?"

Ed snapped out of his reverie and glanced over at Roy's mother. She had accompanied Mei to Eastern Headquarters, but had hung back while the princess and Roy had retreated to the privacy of the meeting room, lurking around the edge of the front hall like a shadow. This was the first she'd acknowledged Ed's presence.

"Someone's got to." Ed shoved his hands in his pockets. "If she's gonna run off half-cocked and boiling mad like yesterday."

She gave him an unreadable look. "From what I've heard, that sort of exploit was your specialty."

Ed's answering grin was less than friendly. "Sure was. That's why I know the shit-load of trouble it can cause." He scoffed. "The only reason I'm not dead is I had some really good people watching my back. Wish I could say the same for those caught in my wake. . . ."

He drifted off, his eyes on the conference room door but his mind elsewhere. The ghosts of Liore were never far, but recent events had brought them right back to the forefront. "I grew up," he continued. "Learned the hard way that some things are bigger than me and my self-centered goals." Watching the woman out of the corner of his eye, he added, "Doesn't seem like Mei can say the same."

"Well! That's presumptuous of you. You know little of Mei's goals and even less of her life. Your assumption is pure arrogance."

He smirked, feeling a bit of spiteful glee at breaking through her façade. "Doesn't mean I'm not right."

She glared at him, tight-lipped, and Ed couldn't suppress another grin. It was petty of him, he knew it was, but after the last two days he didn't care.

"Is that the secret, then?" Her voice was quiet, harsh. "Certainty that you're in the right?"

Ed hesitated; that didn't seem like they were on the same topic anymore. He turned to get a better look at her—and startled, suddenly noticing the grey-haired man standing a few feet behind them. "General Grumman!"

Grumman raised a hand in greeting, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Oh, please, don't stop on my account. I was finding this very enlightening."

"What are you doing here?"

Yu roll her eyes at his blunt question but Ed ignored her.

"Well, it's been a good half a year or so now, so I came to see how Mustang was holding up. I hear you've had some excitement recently."

Ed shrugged. "I guess. It's just been a lot of bullsh—um, noise, really. Nothing big."

"We'll see what comes of it, I suppose. The East has never been a quiet region."

"Yeah, but it's not like—" He broke off when the conference room door opened.

Mei exited first. The princess was still fuming, but it was now a slow burn instead of an explosion. Ed took in her stubborn determination, then shifted his gaze to the man behind her.

Roy met his eyes briefly before turning to greet Grumman. Four years ago, Ed might have dismissed it as the Colonel being a cold and distant bastard, but now he recognized the careful control for the shield it was. Roy seemed tired, and the stress was clearly wearing on him, but he was holding himself less rigidly than yesterday. Ed took this as a good sign.

"All right, _alchemist_ ," Mei snapped, pulling Ed's attention back. "Since I can't be rid of you, you're going to be useful. We're going to talk _theory_."

Ed shrugged and affected a careless grin. "Sure. Want to go back to the basics?"

Yu huffed and turned on her heel. "If you two don't limit your destruction there will be nowhere left to _have_ a discussion."

Ed narrowed his eyes as he watched her leave. Mother and son hadn't exchanged so much as a nod of greeting.

* * *

Roy escorted Grumman to his office, shutting the door on international tensions and wary subordinates.

"Seems I left you with a bit of a mess, son."

Roy shook his head, with a polite smile that he hoped hid how close to the mark his former superior's statement was. "Not at all. Things have been pretty calm compared to what we had four years ago."

Grumman scoffed. "Wars; mercenaries; inhuman monsters mucking things up—what, did you think I hadn't known about that?—those things are no walk in the park, but you know who your enemy is. You know your target and you know your teammates. This. . . ." He waved toward the main room. "My boy, do you even know who's friend or foe out there?"

Roy sank down onto the opposite couch, concealing a sigh as he settled himself in. "If you asked them the same about me," he said, carefully, "how do you think they would respond? Or if you asked my superiors in Central?"

"You've given them reason to doubt, there's no denying that," the older man admitted. "But this mess—the heart of it—would be here with you or without you."

He nodded. "The military is still finding its footing. I haven't had much time for reading case files since I've been back, but I've gotten the gist of it."

"Your demotion four years ago was only the start of the shake-up—Bradley left us with the makings of a disaster. Between the old guard still clinging to their power, the new idealists trying to seize their chance, and Parliament stuck in the middle trying to keep the peace. . . ."

"No one knows who to trust," Roy finished.

"And you're a tempting target."

He sighed, his gaze dropping to his folded hands. "I fear I have not been doing much to lessen that."

"That's why I'm concerned." Grumman shook his head. "But from you, I would hardly expect anything else. You've never been the type to duck your head and let things flow on by. But are you sure you have a handle on what you're stirring up this time?"

He laughed under his breath. "I would like to say 'yes.' I would like to proclaim that I am more than a match for any unease and office politics. But I have a feeling you would call me on that."

"To be honest, son, you're looking a little raw around the edges already."

"I'll manage. There have been some . . . personal things that have come up recently."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with that woman out front who looks _remarkably_ like you, would it? She and young Elric were having a bit of a tense conversation when I walked up. Family problems, then? How did she take you having a boyfriend?"

Roy smiled. Grumman's ready acceptance of them had done a lot to smooth things over when he took the position here. "Not as badly as I had feared. No, I'm afraid it's . . . to tell you the truth. . . ." He faltered, looked down at his hands again. "Mother has been living in Xing for a while. During Ishval, and . . . more recent events . . . the trial. . . . She only heard what news managed to cross the desert."

"And you didn't always tell her everything." Grumman finished. "Heavens. Why would you? No one likes to share those kinds of details. Has she . . . learned something that didn't sit too well?"

Roy closed his single eye, suppressing a sigh.

"You're in a hard spot. I wish I knew how to help, but with my family . . . well, this sort of thing wasn't as much of an issue."

"No, I imagine not. But . . . my family problems aside, you're right about things being . . . unsettled." He gestured to the outer office. "You walked by most of my immediate command on the way in here. How did they seem to you?"

"Divided," he answered promptly. "Uneasy. Quite a contrast to the office you had here as a colonel."

"I was lucky, back then. I had found some good people, people I knew would stand with me. Now . . . now, I have more standing against me than with me, and I'm not even certain which is which. I can't put faces to those who would be my enemies. Not all of them."

"That bad, is it? I can see the lot out there isn't a very cohesive unit, but what you're implying sounds more sinister."

"Someone has been trying to plant suspicion. Clumsily, so far. But with tensions what they are, and so many here distrustful of me, I'm having some difficulty sussing out the culprit. Or culprits."

Grumman nodded. "From the look of it, having the embassy here has been more of a hinderance than a help."

"In some ways. But perhaps not entirely. The parties in question seem to be acting in haste because of the embassy's presence. It's made them sloppy."

"If anyone could take advantage of that, it's you." Grumman eased himself off the couch, stretching his legs. "I do think the military's headed in the right direction, finally. But it won't be without some stumbling."

Roy stood to see him out. "I agree. And I'm prepared for that."

"Let's hope so. I'd hate to see you get caught in one of its sinkholes. Not again." He paused at the doorway. "I don't need to tell you that this isn't a game you should play when your head's not in it."

"No, it isn't," he agreed.

After his former commander was gone, Roy leaned against the office door, barely stopping himself from sliding down to the carpet. To say his head wasn't in the game would be a gross understatement. It galled him just how poorly he was handling the current situation—simple office politics and scheming shouldn't be laying him out like this.

Through the window he could see Ed and Mei, bright gold and inky black making a sharp contrast as they shouted back and forth and all but came to blows as they argued. For the sake of the city and his own workload he hoped they contained themselves a little better than yesterday. Though he had to admit, a small part of him was sorry he'd missed the show. Seeing Ed in action was a treat he hadn't gotten much of lately.

His mother was nowhere in sight. Roy didn't know if he should be worried or relieved, and was still too numb to care.

He kept seeing his mother's face, her look of absolute terror when he'd blocked off the train with his flames. If she hadn't thought he was a monster before, she certainly must now.

So be it. The mantle wasn't a new one.

A sharp rap on the door at his back made him jump. He froze, holding himself away from the door and silently counting the number of steps it would have taken to walk from the desk, using the time to compose himself and get his mask into place. Only when he was sure of his control did he turn and open the door.

"Sir." Second Lieutenant Marcus looked like he was chewing on something unpleasant. His eyes darted to the side and he gripped the folder in his hands as if he was wary of the outer office. Roy studied him for a moment before stepping back. "Sorry—to bother you, Sir," the aid started as he accepted silent invitation. He cleared his throat, waiting until his commander had shut the door before continuing. "I was . . . as my duties permitted . . . doing some looking into the records. I realize you assigned Samuels and Peters to help Chaffee, but I thought . . . I wanted to have my own look."

"I appreciate the initiative. Please, continue."

Marcus sized him up. At another time, Roy might have been bothered, but right now he couldn't muster up enough energy to care. His aid's opinion of him was the furthest thing from his mind.

With obvious reluctance, Marcus held out the folder. "Chaffee will be coming to you later with a list of files that were missing or out of place. But this . . . these. . . ." He grimaced. "These are not the documents that were in this folder when I transferred here two years ago."

He took the folder. "You're certain of this?"

"I had some . . . _interest_ in that incident. So I read those files closely. As did Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips, if you wish to verify what I'm saying."

"Mm."

Roy let the folder fall open on the desk, staring at the city named on the top page. He knew he should be reacting somehow—outrange, foreboding, irritation at the very least—but all he felt was dull resignation.


	23. Chapter 21

They were supposed to be watching the stretch of dune that served as a road between Posterim and Liore. That was what Alphonse had said when he'd climbed up here, but the boy seemed more interested in the evening breeze. He sat at the edge of the rooftop with his legs folded and his face turned into the breeze, breathing as if the experience was new to him.

"Do you think you might smell them as they come?" Ling mused.

Al's breath came out in a laugh. "Maybe. It doesn't hurt to try, right?" He breathed in again. "Mmm. First time I came here, I had no idea the desert had a scent," he reflected. "I knew the sand was hot, and I knew the night got cold, because my brother complained. But I had no idea that you can feel the heat of the sand at midday right through the soles of your shoes. I didn't know just how fast the temperature dropped when the sun set. I didn't know how sweet the water could taste after a day on the dunes."

Ling stayed silent. This was as open as the young alchemist had been with him.

"The second time I was here . . . I wasn't thinking about any of that. A friend of mine was killed . . . right inside me." That made Ling raise an eyebrow, but again he held his tongue. "And I couldn't protect her. Then so many more died—hundreds. And I couldn't stop it. I was right there, and I couldn't do anything. Then I had them all, and _still_ —I couldn't protect them. I didn't even think to at first. They got hurt and used and I couldn't stop it. And in the end, I used them too. That makes me just as bad, doesn't it?"

This last he directed at Ling. The prince regarded the boy for a long moment. "I couldn't say. I suppose it depends on how you mean 'good' and 'bad'."

"How do _you_ mean it?" Alphonse returned. "I was being selfish. I wasn't thinking of the greater good or some lofty ideals. I just couldn't stand to see my brother die. Death is a part of the natural order and if you interfere with it nothing good happens, I'd learned that already—but I couldn't let him die. So I selfishly used the energy that had been stolen and forced on me to pull him back."

"And that makes you no better than the one who killed them?"

"The man who killed them, the one who wiped out this town and the soldiers with it, was trying to protect people. His own people had been nearly wiped out by the military, and he was trying to keep it from happening again. If what he did was wrong because people died—then wasn't what _I_ did wrong, because I used those deaths for selfish reasons?"

"You seem to have a very narrow definition of 'right' and 'wrong'."

Al gave him an odd smile. "Maybe. But I'm just a kid who was trying to fix a mistake. I wanted to protect those around me—not an entire people. Or rule a country. So _you_ tell _me_ what's right and wrong."

"Hm . . . are you asking me if I would have killed those soldiers?"

"Would you have?"

"I'd rather hear about how you brought your brother back from the dead."

" _Almost_ dead. Don't change the subject."

"How you brought him back from almost-dead, then."

"You would have, wouldn't you. You would have killed all those people."

"I didn't say that!"

"You're not saying you wouldn't, either."

"It's not a simple question!" Ling sighed in exasperation. "Your persistence borders on annoying."

"So does yours."

He sighed again. "You can't expect me to answer that with so little."

"If that was the only way to keep your people safe?"

"The _only_ way? Then yes, I suppose I would."

"To save a single person?"

"That . . . would depend on the person."

"It's not equivalent. Many lives for one."

"I'm not an alchemist."

He was saved from further questions when they spotted a plume of dust heading toward the town, barely visible in the fading light.

"Ah! You were right." Al bounced to his feet, straining to get a better look.

Ling nodded. "Better to come when no one will be looking."

"Looks like just one truck." He swung himself over the side of the roof and dropped to the ground.

Ling smiled to himself as he followed. This was starting to pay off already.

"Planning to listen in?" he said. "Why not make some of your automatons?"

"There's not much metal here. It doesn't work as well with other materials."

"So you need metal."

"Iron works best."

"Interesting."

The boy gave him a suspicious look. "Knowing this won't do you any good, you know. And I already told you—"

"—It's not immortality. I know." He shrugged. "It's still interesting."

Al eyed him for a moment more before turning.

"Did you really bring your brother back from the dead?"

"You _can't bring_ a person back from the dead. It won't work." His tone was final. "I healed him."

"Healed his one life—with the many lives you say you had at your disposal? Is _that_ equivalent?"

"No. It wasn't equivalent at all." He was quiet for a moment. Then he stated, "That's why it was selfish."

* * *

Roy lowered himself down onto the couch, his eye drawn to the liquor cabinet. Normally he would restrain himself. He didn't like to have two nights of drinking so close together, but after the day he'd had . . . after the _week_ . . . who could blame him for a drink or two.

Ed was clattering around in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner. With Al out of town he'd picked up most of the chores, with only a fraction of his usual grumbling. Roy knew he wasn't doing his share, and he felt bad about that. He should go and offer to help, instead of sitting here contemplating a drink he knew he shouldn't have. But if he got up now, he had a feeling the liquor would win.

"It never helps, you know. Not really."

Roy jumped, and jerked his eye away from the liquor cabinet to find Ed standing in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up and a dish towel over one shoulder. "What would you know of it," he snapped. Then he immediately felt guilty.

Ed gave him a withering glare. "Don't give me that. I spent my time at the bottom of a bottle. All it did was leave me with a headache and make me feel ten times worse."

Roy leaned his head against his hand. He wanted to say, _then you don't understand. You don't know what it's like to be crushed from all sides, when the only relief you get is to numb yourself for a few hours. When the thing you want to run from most is yourself_. But even in his current state of mind he realized how unfair that was. It was a knee-jerk defensive reaction, and Ed deserved better than to have him lash out with accusations that were far from true.

He twitched when Ed's hand settled on the top of his head. It rested there for a moment, gently rubbing through his hair. He breathed in, and let himself relax.

"I'm sorry," he said, speaking more to the arm of the couch. "For snapping at you." _For being useless. For dragging you down into this pit with me. For being so much less than you deserve_.

Ed hummed an acknowledgement.

"I'm gonna go soak in the tub," he said as he withdrew his hand. "You coming, or what?"

An evening spent drinking himself into a stupor, against an evening relaxing in the bath with his lover in his arms?

Roy pushed himself up from the couch.

After they were upstairs he realized that he should have been watching Ed. His leg had been bothering him recently and the mention of a hot soak was a clue that Roy should have picked up on. He watched now as Ed bent to turn on the water, but any discomfort was be well hidden. Something the young man was far too practiced at.

"So, what is it?" Ed said without turning.

"What?"

He straightened up with a sigh. "Something's been eating at you ever since you got home. And don't try to tell me there isn't—you weren't like this this morning."

Roy stared. "I can't keep anything from you anymore, can I."

"You only could before because I was never around."

Roy frowned. He sincerely doubted that. Ed had been a sharp kid, but he'd been naïve in certain areas so it had been relatively easy to slip things by him. And Roy had prided himself on his misdirection skills.

"So what is it, then?" Ed continued. "Something Grumman said? Or Mei?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, selfishly wishing that some of that naïveté was still present. "No . . . it's not connected to the embassy." He hesitated, but Ed didn't look like he was going to let this go. "There are . . . some records that appear to have been tampered with."

Ed flicked his fingers under the faucet, then set the plug. "And—? What records are they?"

Roy didn't immediately answer. This wasn't something he'd planned to share, not yet, but Ed would not appreciate being kept in the dark. He was watching him now with a certain grim stubbornness, as if the reticence had already confirmed his suspicions.

His hesitation was covered by the phone. Ed glared as if the thing had thwarted him on purpose. Roy knew it was petty, but he was grateful to be able to turn away and escape the inevitable confrontation.

A moment later he was wishing the phone hadn't rung.

* * *

The embassy grounds were in chaos. The MPs who'd been first on the scene and had already blocked off traffic and summoned emergency vehicles, but that was barely a start. Roy grabbed the nearest MP and demanded to know the situation in full.

"Incendiary bombs in three of the buildings, Sir. The extent of the casualties and damage is not yet known."

Several alkestrists were already combatting the fires, their art allowing them to work from a distance. Roy pulled on one of his gloves; extinguishing a flame was a lot harder than starting one, but he should be able to keep the fires from burning out of control.

"Suspects?"

"None yet, Sir. My men are working on it."

"Our priority is to get everyone safe and accounted for, but I need this followed as soon as possible."

"Understood, Sir."

The kitchens, one wing of sleeping quarters, and Mei's suite had been hit. If he were to pick three targets to create the most disruption, those would be the ones. But why? What could someone hope achieve by attacking the embassy?

As pressing as those questions were, he couldn't address them now. Not until he knew every last person here was safe. This happened on his watch; it was his responsibility. Every injury was on him.

The fires were the main problem, but the structural damage wasn't insignificant. Roy ordered everyone but the senior alkestrists to the sidewalk. Emergency personnel were arriving now who were better equipped to clear the buildings. He made sure the medical staff had enough room for triage, and looked for someone who could give him a head count, all the while constantly diverting his attention to the fires.

The nearest wall of the kitchens erupted in blue light—Ed. Because orders to get back were for other people. Before Roy could shout for him—not that he would have listened—the young man had already vanished inside. An instant and another transmutation later smoke burst out of the building, creating a local windstorm as more air rushed in behind it.

Bad news for containing the fires—but instead of flaring, the wall burned sluggishly. That had no doubt been Ed's initial transmutation. A knot of people staggered out of the building, with Ed close behind.

The night passed in a blur of constantly assessing and reassessing. Giving orders. Making sure everyone was accounted for and the wounded were being tended. Clearing the buildings. Those damnable _fires_. Whatever accelerant had been used was a persistent one.

At some point early on in the commotion Roy spotted his mother and cousin on the sidewalk, and it lifted a considerable weight from him. Worry over Ed's stubborn insistence on being in the center of the mess was still a constant, but that was nothing new.

Eventually the chaos quieted down. A number of people had been injured, but none critically. The target seemed to have been the buildings, rather than people. Roy was grateful for at least that small mercy, but it only made the incident even more perplexing.

Those with the worst injuries were already being taken to East City General, while paramedics were treating the more minor injuries. Mei was off to one side, speaking rapidly with several senior members of the embassy. She glared as Roy approached.

"Am I _allowed_ to find those—" she said something in Xingian that was less than polite, "—who did this, or do I need an _escort_?"

His smile had little humor in it. "Princess, this attack was against Xingian people, on Xingian land. What you do about it is _entirely_ up to your discretion. Just," he added, " _try_ to be somewhat courteous of Amestrian laws. Dead bodies create a terrible amount of paperwork."

He did have some worry about turning her loose on his city, but on the other hand he was glad to turn over even a little of the responsibility. He would have his own people on this, of course, but with Mei out there he could be a little more free with his focus.

He dodged around emergency personnel and MPs until he located his mother. She was seated on the curb in a small group, out of the way.

"Are you all right?" Roy asked as he knelt down beside her. "Both of you. Were you injured?"

He could almost believe it was just the events of this night that made her hesitate, just slightly, before turning towards him. "We're—fine," she said, attempting a smile. "Just a bit of smoke. Neither of us was near the bombs."

He squeezed her shoulder. "I'll be making arrangements for everyone, but we have a spare room—it would put my mind at ease to know you were somewhere safe."

She hesitated before nodding. He'd like to believe it was his imagination, but he wasn't in the habit of fooling himself. For now, he filed it away as one of many things to be dealt with later.

Ed had materialized at some point, covered in soot and grime. Roy stood and tried to brush the worst of it from his hair. "Should I even ask how you are?"

Ed hunched his shoulders, but didn't pull away. "M'fine. The medical guys said everyone's out? Where's Mei?"

"Off seeking the individuals responsible."

There was a dangerous flash in his gold eyes. "Good."

With nothing more for them to do, Roy gave some last orders to the officers on site and then left for headquarters.

Ed sighed, slouching down in the passenger seat. "Does this really have to be done _now_?"

Roy glanced over. Ed was probably missing that hot bath even more than he was. "I'm sorry. This shouldn't take long."

Ed kicked a foot against the dash. " _Fine_."

The corner of his mouth pulled up at his lover's petulance, but it faded fast. "Something about this doesn't sit right," he muttered.

"Y'mean like how it seems to've been pointless?" He kicked the dash again. "'Course it doesn't fucking sit right." Ed sank down further with a grumble. " _None_ of this sits right."

They pulled up to the curb and Roy switched the car off. "I keep feeling that I've missed something. This shouldn't have come out of nowhere."

Ed hesitated, watching him, but then must have thought better of whatever he'd been about to say. Instead he shoved the door open and got out to stretch on the sidewalk. "Get whatever y'need to get. I need some fuckin' air."

Roy had a feeling he knew what Ed had censured: he was not at the top of his game. Far from it. Grumman had seen it; Ed, of course, could see it. Who else?

Was someone trying to take advantage of it?

He nodded at the night guard as he went in, his mind in turmoil.

This was most likely a distraction. But a distraction from what—that was what he needed to figure out.

He jerked to a stop, snapped out of his thoughts by the man hurrying past him in the hallway. Tense shoulders, head down and eyes averted—"Sergeant-Major—"

The man flinched, and waited just a moment too long without turning to acknowledge a superior.

Roy grabbed his shoulder. "Sergeant—"

A shift in posture was all the warning Roy had before the man whipped around. He jerked back and brought his arm up—it wasn't enough. It knocked the man back but didn't keep the knife from biting deep into his abdomen.

Both men went down. Roy clutched at the wound, pain and adrenaline causing time to fragment into discrete, vivid flashes.

The knife, smeared in his blood, on the floor between them.

His assailant, face bloodied, shaking off his daze and reaching for the knife.

A sudden panic, unable to recall whether or not he'd removed his glove when he'd gotten in the car.

Then his own fingers rasping together, the spark and transmutation more hope and prayer and reflex than conscious thought.

Roy doubled over and vomited, the stench of burning flesh and hair and wool overwhelming in the confined space.

Blood.

He stared down at the mess, holding himself up on a shaking arm.

He'd vomited blood.

He pushed himself up, scrabbled at the wall for purchase, got to his feet out of sheer determination. He braced himself there, hunched over with both arms trying to staunch the wound.

Not here.

Not now.

Not like this.

Get to help. Outside. One step after another. Keep moving.

Footsteps raced toward him. But these were familiar footsteps, these meant safety. He looked up, and reached out as his legs collapsed. Got his hand on an arm as Ed dropped down beside him. The guard was behind him, but Ed was the one who mattered. "I couldn't—I'm sorry—"

"Roy? _Roy_ , shit, don't _do_ this—"

Ed pulled at him. Roy tried to stand, tried to pull himself up. His strength was gone. He could hear himself apologizing, babbling, as if from a distance.

Ed scooped him up. One arm under his knees and the other around his back. A laugh tried to bubble up as he thought, _how romantic_ , but the world was starting to spin. Even Ed's frantic voice and the jostling as he ran were fading.

"Stay _with_ me don't you _dare_ fucking leave me—"

He fought for consciousness, one hand twisted in Ed's shirt. That Ed would think he would leave— _could_ ever leave—when Ed was the very thing that gave him _life_ — "Never . . . not ever. . . ."

The guard was shouting something; Ed was shouting back. He thought he should maybe tell the guard to give up. But then pain lanced through him as Ed dumped him none-too-gently in the car, and consciousness fled.


	24. Chapter 22

The MEs had taken the body, but the hallway still looked like something out of a horror house. Half of it charred, with blood and god knows what else drying into the carpet, and still reeking of burnt flesh. All in all, Breda supposed he'd seen worse, but being confronted with a scene like this right as he walked into headquarters, after being roused out of bed in the wee hours of the morning, ranked up there pretty high.

It wasn't helped by the uncertainty over Mustang's condition. Right now no news meant good news, but that was small reassurance. Breda took a bitter consolation in the fact that the other guy was undoubtedly worse off.

Lt. Colonel Phillips picked his way around the mess, his expression tight. "According to the guard, a man came in here maybe forty minutes before the brigadier general. He had a proper ID, or what seemed like one, but the guard didn't get a look at the name. Late thirties, average height, dark hair."

"That could be half the men here."

"I'm working to narrow that down. I need you help me piece together why he might have been in here in the first place."

Breda followed Phillips down the hall. Unfortunately, from here, the man could have been anywhere in the base.

"This makes two break-ins within the last week—that we know of," the lt. colonel continued. "Along with the attack on the embassy. Lieutenant, I've been here for three years, and they were probably the quietest years of my career. This sort of thing just didn't happen."

"And then Mustang showed up."

Phillips glanced at him, eyebrows raised as if to say, _you said it, not me_. "In all fairness, it's been a little over six months and these are our first major incidents. But it's hard to escape the fact that he's a target."

Which meant Phillips thought Mustang may be sparking it off, but not directly to blame. Breda filed this away.

The base librarian, Sergeant Chaffee, met them in the hall outside the records room. "Someone's been in there, Sir. I'm just guessing right now, but it looks like they were searching for something. Most of the cabinets have been disturbed."

"Anything missing or tampered with?"

Chaffee grimaced. "I won't know for a while. I had only just finished the inventory from the _last_ break-in."

Phillips turned to Breda. "I think we all know this area's biggest hot buttons, but you're more intimately familiar with those issues. I want you rooting this out before it blows up in our faces."

"Understood, Sir."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find lodging for everyone in the embassy," the lieutenant-colonel grumbled. "The last thing we need is to add some international hostilities to this."

"The embassy—has anyone spoken with the brigadier-general's mother?"

Phillips ground the heel of his hand against his eye. "Oh, hell. No."

"I can take that," Breda offered. "I have some questions I want to ask."

Phillips gave him the name of the facility where members of the embassy had been taken to wait for more long-term lodging, a small municipal building often used for town hall meetings and other gatherings. He seemed glad to pass off the duty, though that might have just been the stress.

The sun had not yet risen and the streets were still mostly empty. Breda used the short drive to try to fit the pieces together in a way that made sense. He had the feeling that all of this was only a minor play in some larger game, but he couldn't fathom the end goal yet. The military's power structure was unstable, but which faction was trying to take advantage?

Once at the hall, he asked the first person he saw to find Yu Mustang, then asked if anyone could perhaps remember who had visited the embassy that day.

"I don't understand," one tired looking elder said. "Our princess and her guards are already taking care of this. Brigadier-General Mustang said it was a Xingian matter."

Breda sighed. "It—it is. The bombing is. But something else happened tonight and we think they're connected. If there's anything you can tell me—anything that stood out—"

"What happened?"

This came from Yu Mustang. She stood just inside the doorway, clutching her elbows. She looked like she hadn't slept in some time.

Breda walked over, ushering her away from the group. "Ma'am . . . I'm afraid there was a second incident."

* * *

Yu twisted the hem of her blouse between her fingers. She stared at the dashboard of the car, trying not to think about the hospital they were now approaching. Trying not to think about her son—her only child—lying in a room in that hospital. And trying—desperately—not to think of the last several days, and how frightened she had been—frightened of her own son. How she had let that fear make her cold and distant.

"HQ would've been told if the news was bad," Lieutenant Breda was saying. "I know that's not much, but it means there's still hope. The brigadier-general's a tough son-of-a-bitch—if you'll pardon my language—and he's not going to go down without a fight."

She tried to smile. ". . . Yes. He gets that from his father."

But his father did go down. One day he seemed invincible—and the next day he was gone. Blotted out by something trivial. As if he'd never mattered.

They pulled up to the hospital, and she got out of the car and walked inside in a daze.

The first thing she noticed was Ed's crumpled form in one of the waiting room chairs. Breda called his name and his head snapped up from his hands. He shot to his feet and dashed toward them, and she barely had time to note his frantic expression and the blood smeared across his shirt before he grabbed her arms.

"Yu! You're his mom, they'll talk to you, they'll _have_ to—"

"What are you—"

"They won't talk to me!" His voice cracked. "Roy could be _dying_ in there and they won't tell me a fucking thing because _I'm not family_!"

His panic grounded her. She cupped his cheek, then took his hand and marched over to the desk. "I'm Yu Mustang—I want to know my son's condition."

The woman behind the desk looked at them dispassionately. Her glance to Ed bordered on distaste and Yu glared at her, daring her to say one word. The woman finally picked up a receiver and pushed a few buttons. After a few terse exchanges, she waved them to the door to one side of the desk, telling them that a doctor would meet them there shortly.

It was some of the longest minutes of her life. Ed wouldn't be still, shifting from foot to foot and bouncing in place. He was staring at the door as if thinking of barging through and she tightened her grip on his hand. After an age a man in scrubs stepped through the door.

"Mrs. Mustang?" He didn't so much as acknowledge Ed.

"That's right."

"Your son is stable, but not out of danger yet. There was significant trauma and he's lost a lot of blood." He went on to talk about sepsis and organ failure and other things that made Yu's head spin and her heart clench. The upshot seemed to be that if he made it through the day his chances improved significantly, but it was a big _if_.

"Can we see him?" she asked, her voice thin to her own ears.

"I'll have a nurse fetch you when we've moved him to a recovery room. He's still sedated and needs the rest, so we'll have to ask you to make your visit short."

She thanked him and the doctor went back to his duties, leaving them to digest what they'd just heard.

Ed stumbled over to a chair and dropped down, his head in his hands. She followed and sank down beside him, staring at the floor without seeing it.

Breda sat down on Ed's other side and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Boss—I hate to press on this now, but we need to know what happened."

Ed shook his head. "I dunno what I could tell you. Roy went to grab something from the office, and the next thing I know I'm seeing flames through the window. By the time I got in there the guy was charcoal, and Roy—Roy was—fuck." He cut himself off, pressing his hands against his eyes.

Breda gave him a moment to collect himself, then asked, "Did Mustang say what he went in to get?"

He shook his head again. "We were talking about the attack on the embassy, and Roy was saying how he felt like he'd missed something. But that's it—he didn't say what he was going in for or anything. Sorry."

"Was there anything else? Anything that's been on his mind lately."

"Oh—the records." Ed finally raised his head. "Just before we got the call about the embassy he was saying that some records look like they've been changed. He didn't say how."

"Did he say which records?"

A smile ghosted across the young man's face. "No. He didn't want to tell me. Which means it's got something to do with Liore."

"You're sure?"

"Ninety-six-point-three percent sure. I can't think of anything else that idiot has been trying to 'protect' me from lately."

Breda's smile looked resigned. "I was thinking of starting there anyway. Thanks, Ed; if you need anything, let me know."

"I'm—fine."

Breda punched his shoulder. "Like hell you are. I know you better than that." He paused for a moment, then sighed. "Look. If you promise me you're not going to run off and try to handle things yourself, I'll let you know what I find. All right?"

Ed breathed out a laugh. "I'll behave, I promise."

Breda mussed his hair, the way he might show rough affection to younger brother, and stood. "I should get back to HQ. Do you want me to sent a car by?"

It took Yu a moment to realize this was directed to her, but Ed was already shaking his head. "I've got Roy's car here. I can take her back to . . . shit, where _is_ everyone staying now?"

"Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips was still working on that."

Ed waved him off. "Well, I've got it. Go . . . investigate shit. Or something."

"Yes, _sir_ , Major Elric."

With this flippant parting he left.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

"Where you really a major? At your age?"

Ed snorted. "Sorta. I never joined up as a regular soldier, so it was mostly honorary."

He fiddled with the cuff of one of his gloves. They might have once been white, but soot and grime and blood had turned them a dingy and mottled grey-brown.

"Think I like it better when it's my _own_ blood," he muttered.

Yu didn't know what to say to that. She watched in silence as he peeled off the gloves and stuffed them into his pocket.

Finally a nurse came to escort them to the room.

Ed took one step into the hospital room and turned to the nurse to demand, "Where's his eye patch?"

Yu had been too caught by the monitors and tubes hooked up to her son to notice that the ubiquitous black patch was missing.

The nurse said in a disinterested voice, "I'm sure it's with his personal effects."

"He doesn't like to be without it."

The woman gave him a condescending look. "Young man, this is a _hospital_ —"

"He _doesn't like_ ," Ed growled, "to be _without it_."

She tried for another two seconds to stare him down, then turned away and muttered something about having his personal effects brought over.

Yu crossed to the bed, seeing for the first time the deep gash that ran from Roy's brow to across his cheek. "‹My poor baby,›" she whispered. She touched one edge of it, lightly, unable to stop her imagination. How horrible it must have been. "‹My poor little boy.›"

Ed's hand appeared in her field of vision, brushing Roy's hair back. "He doesn't even like to take it off at home," he explained. "Sometimes I want to tell him he's being an idiot, but I don't have much room to talk." His smile was brief but incredibly fond. "It's just one of those things."

She caressed the cheek beneath the knotted tissue, wondering what this scar meant. Wondering what he had been keeping from her.

An orderly arrived then, and without comment handed her a small box. When she opened it she found a silver pocket watch, a single glove with an array stitched in red, a wallet, and the eye patch. She handed this last to Ed, then watched as he slid it over the left side of Roy's face, easing the strap into place with care, making sure it was seated right and taking time to smooth his hair out of the way..

"There," he said as he finessed the oxygen tube around patch. "That's better, isn't it? Vain bastard."

His fingers lingered on Roy's jaw, the metal dark against the pale skin. Yu averted her eyes, feeling like an intruder.

A nurse stepped in and reminded them to make their visit short. Ed moved away with obvious reluctance. Yu took her son's hand for a brief moment, then followed, still clutching the box with his personal effects.

The storm inside her head started to sort itself into coherent thought as they left the hospital. "I need you to take me back to the embassy."

Ed frowned at her. "The embassy? But it's all ruined. We have a room—"

"I know." She stared down at the box in her hands. "But Mei's senior staff should still be there. There's—there's something I need to do."

Still frowning, he opened the passenger door to a car that was parked only nominally against the curb. "Okay—I guess. If that's what you wanna . . . um."

Blood painted the seat, pooled on the cushion and dripping down to the floor. It had dried to brown in spots but in others was still a shiny, sticky red.

"Shit. I'll—um—here." Ed brought his hands together and then touched the stain. A moment later he was dumping dried blood onto the ground. "Sorry."

Something inside her crumbled as she watched what might be her son's life be brushed away so easily. She pressed a hand to her mouth, desperately trying to hold herself together. She only needed to make it to the embassy. It wasn't that far, she only needed to hold it together until then—

"Okay, that should—oh. Um—oh."

Ed took the box from her and dropped it in the car, then put a hand on her arm. He looked so concerned—for _her_ —that the last of her control snapped and she sobbed.

He hugged her. "Yeah. It really fucking sucks."

He still reeked of the embassy fires and blood and was probably ruining the fresh clothes she had put on. She laughed, and sobbed, and cried into his shoulder. "Yes, it does," she agreed. "It really does."

* * *

The house seemed deathly quiet.

Ed pushed the front door closed and stood for a moment in the entryway. Magpie was watching him from the couch, but otherwise he was the only living thing there. He desperately wished that Al hadn't gone off chasing that bastard Ling. It was selfish, but right now he didn't have it in him to be otherwise. It felt like the world was taking a shit and once again Edward Elric was the target.

He didn't bother to hang up his coat, instead dropping it on the entryway tiles. It needed a good wash and maybe a transmutation or two before it would be presentable again. Later.

He set the box with Roy's personal effects—and what an impersonal label that was—on the coffee table and lowered himself to the floor. "Hey, stupid cat. Be glad you weren't on the streets last night."

Magpie trilled at him and set to sniffing his hand and sleeve. The cat sneezed, twice, then started to lick the back of his hand.

Ed moved the hand out of range. "You probably shouldn't be ingesting that. But you're right. I need a bath." He scratched the cat's neck and—because there was no one around to see—planted a quick kiss between his ears. "You ever rat on me for that and you're on the street again."

_Maow_?

"I mean it, stupid cat. That'd be the end of the freeloading."

He gave the cat one more scratch and pushed himself to his feet, wincing. A night without sleep hadn't done his leg any favors.

Maybe it was good that no one else was around, because he was too tired to hide his limp as he climbed the stairs. Maybe Roy was right, maybe he should talk to Winry—

"Fuck."

Ed scrubbed a hand over his face, staring at the half-filled tub.

If Roy was here, he'd call Winry just to make him happy. Hell, he would drive himself over to Central and get a full automail overhaul if it meant Roy was here to make happy.

He pulled the stopper on the tub, watched the water swirl down.

Ed must have stood under the hot spray for a good forty minutes trying to scrub the last several hours off his skin. It only marginally helped. He turned off the water and stared at the tiles, feeling like he was still waiting to wake up from a nightmare. He reached for a towel.

He stood in the doorway rubbing the towel over his hair, staring at a bed that looked way too big and empty. A king-sized bed, Roy had called it. Ed had teased him about the extravagance. Roy had teased him back about getting lost in the blankets. And maybe getting him a ladder.

"Bastard," he muttered, smiling in spite of everything.

He walked over to Roy's side and dropped to the floor, his back against the mattress. As exhausted as he was, he was way too keyed up to sleep.

He really wished Al was there.

He stared at Roy's alarm clock. It had never gotten set the night before. A good thing, too, because it would have been blaring by now.

After a moment or two of debate, he grabbed the phone by its cord and slid it to the edge of the nightstand, until he could grab the base and lift it to the floor.

Ed counted the rings as he tried to sort out his head. Everything was such a muddle he was afraid it would all come out in an incoherent mess.

On the seventeenth ring a bored voice picked up. Ed stated the room number and person he wanted and the receiver was dropped onto the table without further comment. (Ed rolled his eyes but had to admit he probably wouldn't have acted any better. Common area phones were a pain.)

A couple minutes later the receiver was picked back up. " _Yes? Who is this_?"

A small bubble of tension escaped his chest at the familiar voice. "Hey Winry."

" _Ed_?" Winry's irritation evaporated immediately. " _What's wrong? Did something happen_?"

"Yeah. It's—" His throat closed up. He managed to choke out "Roy" and "hospital" before the sob broke free.

"i>Oh my god. What happened? Is he gonna be okay? What are the doctors saying?"

Ed wiped his nose and sniffed, and got himself under control. "I dunno. We got the 'if he makes it through the day' speech. But they wouldn't even _talk_ to _me_ ," he added, bitterly.

" _Oh, no_." He heard rustling and guessed Winry was sitting down. " _Immediate family only. Standard rules. Oh, Ed_. . . ."

"It was all right once his mom got there. They didn't mind telling _her_."

" _It's still not all right_." Then after a pause, " _What happened_?"

"He was attacked. And intruder at HQ—"

" _This early in the morning_?"

"Yeah. He was—because of—fuck, I better start from the beginning."

Ed summarized everything that had happened since the phone had rung the night before. Winry interrupted several times to ask questions, but most were answers he didn't have. If only he did know, maybe he wouldn't feel so helpless.

" _Wait a minute, Ed_ —" she said as he wrapped up with his mad drive to the hospital, " _Where the hell is_ Al?"

"Oh. Right." He sniffed again and rubbed his face. "Al's in Liore. That's another long story and I don't even know a third of it."

" _What has been—what? No, I'm not done yet, sorry_." This to someone in the room. " _Do you have_ any _idea who that man was—and what he was doing there_?"

"There really wasn't much left of him. Roy was panicked, after all. Kinda crispy-fried over-killed him."

" _Eugh. That wasn't a detail I needed_."

"Sorry. I haven't slept. Anyway. Breda's looking into it."

" _And you think the attack on the embassy was_ —No, _I'm going to_ be awhile _yet,_ sorry. _Sorry, Ed—what do you think the embassy has to do with anything_?"

"I think it was a distraction. I think—I think someone's trying to throw Roy off balance or something."

" _But why_?"

"I dunno," he admitted. "Roy doesn't really share all the political stuff with me. I, uh. Kinda can't follow a lot of it."

" _That's because you're an idiot_ ," she said, fondly. " _But Roy's good at that kind of thing_."

"Yeah. . . ."

" _That sounded like a loaded 'yeah'_."

Ed let his head rest on his knees.

" _Ed? What is it_?"

"Well . . . normally . . . but . . . remember . . . remember what he was like right after he came down from the north?"

Winry was quiet.

"He isn't—he isn't as bad as he was then," he rushed to explain. "I mean, he's dealing with it. He hasn't let it pull him down like he was before, but it just—it just—shit."

" _What—look, I'll let you know when I'm done here, okay?—what happened_?"

Ed sniffed and wiped his eyes. "I'd be guessing, and I'm too tired to guess. Something between him and his mom. It's just—he's just—down. it's been crazy over here, and it's taken a lot out of him. But he's been _dealing_ with it. But I just—I can't help but think—the way he's been might—I dunno. I guess I'm saying he might—might not have been in the best place to deal with this. I wish I _was_ better at this political shit."

" _Forget it, Ed, you're way too honest_."

He huffed, leaning back against the bed. "Hey, I can be . . . not-honest."

" _No you can't. You just get_ —my BROTHER'S BOYFRIEND just got STABBED so go find yourself ANOTHER PHONE!" This was punctuated by a distant crash, as if something had just been thrown across the room.

Ed snorted, and sputtered, and fell against the nightstand laughing.

" _Ed? Ed, are you okay_?"

"Yeah. Fuck." He straightened up, still snickering. "Thanks."

" _For—what_?"

"For just . . . being you." He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling a little bit better. "I'm not keeping you from any classes or anything, am I?"

" _Don't worry about it_."

" _Win_ -ry . . . don't go skipping classes 'cause of _me_. . . ."

" _Please. It's a first-year course and it's dead easy. It's not gonna matter if I miss a session_."

"They didn't let you test out?"

" _No. This one is_ required." He was sure she was rolling her eyes. " _It's not_ completely _worthless, there's been a lot of advances in medicine in the last several years, but I've already read through the materials and I could have taken the final the first week. So never mind that—Ed, are you sure you're okay_?"

He sighed. "I . . . dunno," he admitted. "It'd be better if I could _do_ something. Anything."

" _It seems to me you've already done a lot_."

"Not really."

" _Ed . . . I don't . . . know the details of what happened, what pulled him down, but . . . the fact that he's been dealing with it, and not—not getting dragged under by it like before . . . you know that's because of you, right_?"

He sniffled. "But I'm not . . . really _doing_ anything. Roy's just . . . he's fighting it this time. He wasn't fighting it before."

" _He's fighting it because of_ you. _Just—just trust me on this, all right? Maybe if you weren't such an idiot you'd be able to see it, too_."

He scoffed. "Thanks, I think."

" _Now go to bed, idiot. You're not going to be any help to anyone if you're dead on your feet_."

"Yeah. I think I could sleep now."

" _Let me know what happens, okay? Good or . . . just let me know_."

"Yeah. Okay."

" _If I don't hear from you in the next couple days I'm gonna call. And if I can't get ahold of you_ then _I'm driving over. Screw the train schedules_."

"You don't have a car up there."

" _I'll find one. There's plenty on campus_."

Ed laughed. "All right, all right. But don't go skipping your classes _or_ committing larceny, you loon."

After hanging up the phone, Ed realized he'd forgotten to mention his leg.

It was just acting up from stress, anyway. It would feel better after he got some sleep. No need to worry her over something trivial.

He crawled up onto the bed and collapsed. On top of the bedclothes Roy so fastidiously pulled up every morning.

Magpie headbutted the side of his face and started to lick his eyebrow. Ed groaned and raised his hand to let the cat lick that instead. "If you plan on staying don't blame me if you get kicked. I'm not responsible for anything I do in my sleep."

Magpie rubbed against his palm.

"Stupid cat."

Ed roused himself and burrowed under the blankets. The weather was starting to turn and it was just a bit too cold for sleeping out in the open.

This time last year Roy had been just starting to complain about frigid automail. But he had never once shied away when Ed sought out his body heat, even in the dead of winter.

Ed lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the eerie quiet. The neighbor's front door slamming, and then car starting up. A dog barking several houses away. The distant ticking of that stupid, ornate clock Roy liked so much.

Roy and his stupid extravagances.

Ed scooted across the too-large mattress and buried his face in Roy's pillow, breathing deep.

Magpie padded across his back and nudged his ear with a chirp.

"If you promise not to rat on me for this, either, stupid cat," he said without raising his head, "you're welcome to my pillow. I'm taking this one."


	25. Chapter 23

It wasn't often that Al missed the armor. But as dawn crept over the edge of the desert, he was starting to resent his flesh-and-blood body's need for sleep. Just a little.

They'd spent the whole night tailing the men who'd driven in at dusk. So far it seemed like they were scoping out the town, but he couldn't risk getting close enough to be sure. He'd picked up snatches of conversation that sounded like they were discussing the rebuilding, but there was something else in their conversation as well, and names he could never quite catch.

Even with the construction being aided by alchemy much of the town was still unfinished and currently unlivable. It had given these men ample chance to slip in unnoticed, but Al wasn't sure what good that would do them. Perhaps they thought that if they only poked around the unoccupied sections they wouldn't be noticed, but they'd be spotted as soon as the town began to stir and the work for the day began.

Al suppressed another yawn and rubbed his eyes.

"How much was left?"

Only the reflexes gained from years on the road engaged in sometimes less-than-legal pursuits kept Al from startling audibly when Ling suddenly spoke in his ear.

"I mean when this city was destroyed," he continued, acting like Al hadn't just tried to jump out of his own skin and nearly creamed the Xingian prince in the process. "How much was left?"

"What does it matter?" he hissed.

"Well, _they_ care." Ling pointed to their quarry. "So it must matter to someone."

"I don't know," Al admitted. "Everything got covered by the sand."

"Then there were things to be covered up?"

"Yeah, I guess. I think they found some debris from the old city when the rebuilding started, but I haven't asked." He had never thought to before he got his memories back. Now . . . he remembered that incident perhaps a little too well. "What does it matter what . . . was. . . ."

Al turned to stare at the strangers as something dawn on him.

Ling was smiling. An irritating, smug, far too knowing smile.

"You knew that's why they were here!" Al hissed. "You knew they were here to plant evidence!"

The prince shrugged. "That made the most sense."

"But what—" Al cut himself off, grabbing Ling's sleeve and dragging him to the other end of the alley. Hopefully out of earshot. "But what could they plant? What good would it do them to plant anything?"

"You tell me," Ling returned. "You were here then, right? They want to make your friend look bad—how would they do that?"

The young man shoved a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I don't know! I was just a kid back then—I had my brother and Martel and then Scar to worry about, I wasn't paying attention to what the colonel and the others were doing. Not really." He sank down and set his back to the empty building behind him. "Okay. Okay, Archer was in command, he'd brought in Kimblee and sent the last wave of soldiers into the city. But he sent Brother in first to—"

Al stopped, stared hard at the prince. Ling was crouched down in front of him, smiling and patiently listening. Calculating.

"Yes?" he prompted when the boy stayed silent. "What had your brother been sent to do?"

Al lunged.

He caught Ling's wrist before he could go for his sword. The momentum carried them over backwards and they tussled, spraying sand. Ling managed to draw his weapon at one point, but Al drove an elbow into his wrist and shoved the blade out of reach.

Ling was good. Probably the strongest opponent he'd had faced in years. But Al had the memory of blood and destruction and hundreds of souls being forced into his being driving him. In the end he pinned the Xingian prince against the sand, one hand against his throat.

"Careful," Ling cajoled, attempting a smile. "They might hear."

"I don't care," Al spat. "No more games. What do you want?" Ling tried to squirm away and he tightened his hold, digging in knees and elbows to keep him in place. "You're not so magnanimous that you'd go to all this trouble for just scraps of knowledge. So what is it?"

"Scraps?" Ling scoffed. "The emperor is all but dead! We children, we fight for any scraps we can find. _Anything_ to gain favor and get in close."

"Make sure you're next in line when the old man bites it, huh? Then what? What happens after you've gotten the top seat?"

"Then I rule."

" _No_!" Al snapped. " _Then_ you have every power-hungry maniac in the known world clawing for _your_ throat! They'll want what you have whether it's real or not, and they won't care _who_ dies! That knowledge destroyed this city. It destroyed Ishval—it very nearly tore the entire country down! All for the slim _chance_ that someone _might_ get desperate enough to try the impossible." He paused to take a breath, studying his captive. "You care about your people?"

"Of course."

"Not the power. Not the ability to rule as a concept. Not the country as an abstract—the _people_. The men, the women, the children—you care about _them_?"

"Of course! A country _is_ her people!"

"Then imagine a city about this size—no, maybe twice this. Imagine all the people in that city. The workmen, the nobles, the peasants, the children playing in the streets—imagine their faces. Can you see them?" He waited for an acknowledgement. "Now imagine them suddenly _gone_! Swallowed up in a flash of light. One moment they're going about their daily lives, and the next—wiped out as if they never were. Swallowed up—compressed—smashed into a single Red Stone. All those lives—all those _people_ —turned into pure energy and stored in—in—" He choked. "It wasn't even a complete Stone. All those lives—and it wasn't even _complete_."

Al sat up and edged back, giving Ling his space. He collapsed back against the wall and dropped his head to his hands.

"Ran Fan is about an inch from gutting me, isn't she."

"She's on the roof," the prince answered. "I have told her to hold off, but she's not happy about it."

Al laughed, because there was nothing else he could do. "Well? You have your answer. You know how a Philosopher's Stone is made. I should warn you, though: even that wouldn't give you true immortality. It catches up to you in the end. The Gate always does."

"Then I suppose it's good that I don't want to make anyone immortal."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Once you make it known that you have this knowledge—or even that you _might_ have it—"

"I see." He heard Ling get up, and crouch back down in front of him. "So that is what happened to this city. To the people here."

Al shook his head again. "The soldiers. Archer had brought in a couple hundred. What happened to the people of Liore—that was the military. The Fuhrer had deliberately aggravated a conflict into a war in the hope that someone would get desperate enough to make the Stone. And it worked—but not like they planned."

"Because _you_ had it."

He laughed again. And if it had a slightly manic edge to it, he could blame it on the lack of sleep. "I _was_ the Stone." He looked up. "I had all those souls— _I_ had them. They were part of me. And less than a handful of transmutations later they were all used up. Right along with the body I had at the time." He pressed his hands against his eyes. "Scar's the one who did it. He set a trap for the military, got all the citizens here out through some tunnels. Then he activated the array with me as the center."

"Why you?"

"To save my life. Kimblee had transmuted my armor into a bomb and the only way to stop it was to change it to something else—I didn't want him to! Scar didn't ask me, he just made me the center of the array, and then—" He dropped his hands. "Do you _get it_ now? Do you get why even the knowledge—even the _hint_ of the knowledge is dangerous? So many people were willing to kill just for the chance it might be made. All those people who died in Ishval—who died here—and for what? An alchemic battery that was used up in a matter of weeks."

Ling was staring off to the side, his face pensive. "If my emperor-father knew of this . . . I cannot say he wouldn't attempt it."

Al waved a hand out at the empty part of the city. "Is this really what you want for your country?"

The prince was quiet, staring down the empty alley. Al felt drained. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

Ling grinned suddenly. "On the problem at hand, it occurs to me that we may not need to know _what_ evidence these men are trying to plant. We just need to show that they are planting it. Can you keep them from leaving this city?"

Al blinked, his head spinning at the sudden shift of topic. "Oh. Sure." He pushed himself up and brushed off his clothes. He supposed that other matter was closed—for now. "That'll be easy."

* * *

"It was just a job!" The man insisted. He flinched away from her knives, his hands raised. "Look, I don't ask too many questions, all right? I get my money, I do my job, and that's it."

Mei was finding that the seedy parts of a city were much the same in any country. In places such as these, someone always knew _something_ —she just needed to follow the rumors.

She hadn't had to go far to attract attention: small, female, and foreign, they saw her as an easy target. She had let them chase. Let them think they'd cornered her. The first several were idiots; their only use was to lead her up the line. A few well-placed pressure points and they were all too happy to tell her what she wanted to know.

So it had gone for the rest of the night, chasing one rabbit trail after another. Finally, just as morning approached, she cornered her quarry.

"I don't even know the guy's name," he was saying now. "I didn't want to know it."

Mei glared, her fingers tight around her knives. "I did not spend all night chasing you down to get stopped because you _didn't want to know_!" she spat. "You will tell me who he was—and why he attacked my people!"

"It wasn't even about your people!" he blurted. "I mean, I don't think it was. I didn't ask—" Mei snarled, and he hastened to add, "I mean I'm guessing! He was talking like this was, I dunno, like an afterthought or something. You sort of get a sense for these things when you do this, y'know? It seemed like this was part of some bigger plan. But whatever it was, it wasn't my business."

"Who was he?" she demanded again.

"I don't know! I'd never seen him before. Not the kind who spends much time in this part of town." He hesitated, then added, "Look, I can tell you this much: he moved like he was military. You know how I mean? Always looking like he's about to come to attention."

"Why would the military attack my people?"

The man laughed. "You should be asking _which_ military. And like I said: it wasn't about _you_."

A sudden realization struck her and she cursed, violently enough that the man flinched back.

"I'm just guessing here!" he insisted "You wanted me to guess, and I guessed. I don't know what's going on, I just do what I'm paid to!"

"This is the same as home," Mei muttered. "I should have seen that sooner." She turned on her heel and stalked out of the alley.

"Uh—um—miss?" the man called after her. "Could you—I-I mean—you're not gonna really—"

Without turning Mei scuffed another array into the ground at her feet and released the man from the concrete hands holding him in place.

Mei headed straight back to the embassy grounds; she'd wasted too much time already. She needed to collect her thoughts and regroup.

Just because they hadn't been the true target didn't mean her people weren't in danger. But she needed to know more about this threat before she could decide the best course of action—and how best to turn this to her advantage. Infighting, different factions all vying for power— _that_ she understood.

The embassy didn't look as bad in the daylight. The damaged had been contained to only the three buildings hit by the bombs, and those buildings were still standing. Mostly. She guessed that it wouldn't take a couple of structural alkestrists—or alchemists, she supposed—more than a few days to make repairs.

Her senior aid rushed out to meet her as soon as she was on the embassy grounds. He bowed hastily, clearly agitated. "‹Princess, I'm glad you've returned. We must speak with you on a matter of some urgency.›"

* * *

Mei had commandeered the car the military had sent. If her senior staff minded waiting at bit longer at the burnt-out embassy instead of going to the lodging Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips had arranged, none of them voiced it.

Not that they would, Yu reflected as she watched the princess out of the corner of her eye. Not with that look Mei had on her face.

Mei hadn't refused to help. But she hadn't agreed. The look on her face meant she was busy strategizing—calculating how to squeeze out the maximum advantage, like any good child of the emperor would.

Yu took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She knew the princess. Mei was a kind, sweet girl at her core. But the realities of her life and upbringing meant that she would ignore every kind instinct she had if she thought it would serve her ends.

Perhaps Yu should have approached one of the other alketrists after all. But Mei was the best they had; her intuitive understanding of the human body and its qi lines was outstanding. But along with any child of the emperor came politics and maneuvering—always.

But what her purpose was here, why she had insisted on speaking with Ed before doing anything else, Yu was too tired and worried to figure out.

Or maybe, a small part of her admitted, she just didn't want to think about it. Not on top of everything else.

Mei jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped moving, leaving Yu to thank the driver and ask if he could please wait. Mei was already pounding on the front door. Yu tried to shush her as she rushed up the walk, pointing out that Ed was most likely asleep, never mind the neighbors.

The young woman paused in her pounding. "Then I'll have to go wake him."

Yu was puzzled by this until she realized Mei had scratched an array next to the lock. Her admonishing cry of " _Mei_!!" was lost to the sound of the transmutation.

Mei shoved the door open and marched into the house like—well—royalty. Somehow Yu didn't think that status would help her much against an explosively tempered alchemist who couldn't have gotten more than a hour's sleep.

The alchemist in question was currently standing at the top of the stairs in boxers and an undershirt, hair rumpled and hands poised to clap. Ed glared down at them—at Mei, specifically—like he was daring her to make a move.

"What the . . . _fuck_ are you doing here."

Yu sighed and leaned against the entryway wall, leaving them to it. If this was how the princess wanted to handle things, then she was on her own.

"We need to talk, Alchemist," Mei started. "I can help your lover—but I need something from you, first. Equivalent exchange, you call it?"

Ed's face closed off. He balled his hands into fists and lowered to them to his sides. "Forget it," was all he said. Simple, and final.

"Heartless!" Mei challenged. "You didn't even hear my request—"

Ed scoffed. "The Stone, right?" He lowered himself down to the top step. "Well, forget it. Not at any price."

"Even the life of the man you love?"

He grimaced, the expression turning into a pained snarl as he shook his head. "Not for Roy, not for Al—" he thrust his automail arm out, "—I gave my _arm_ for my brother. I'd give my life for either one of them—but _not this_. Do you fucking _get it_?" His voice caught, emotion finally cracking through. "You have no idea what you're even asking for! No one—" He gulped down a sob. " _No one_ is worth that price."

Yu hardly dared to breathe. She didn't know _what_ to think. Her son's life was being bargained for—and found lacking. Either she had read this young man wrong—or the Stone was more terrible than she had ever imagined.

Mei was quiet for a long moment, staring at the other alchemist. When she finally did speak it was only to say, "I see."

Ed let his head drop to his hands.

"All right then," Mei went on. "We should hurry to the hospital."

Ed jerked his head up. "What—? Wait—you said—"

"I'm sorry." Mei lowered her eyes, for once looking less like a princess and more like just a contrite young woman. "That was cruel of me, I know. I but needed to be sure. I needed to—to understand completely."

Yu gripped the edge of the wall for support. "Mei. . . ."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

Ed had leapt up and dashed to the bedroom with a mutter of "Lemme put on some fucking pants, shit. . . ."

"Mei!" She wasn't sure what she wanted to say, but she had to say something. This was her son's _life_ being tossed around like a bargaining chip. "You. . . ."

"I'm sorry," she said once more. She still didn't meet her eyes. "I had to know."


	26. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are running high as various parties try to sort things out.

As soon as the nurse was gone they locked the door to the hospital room. Although “locked” was perhaps too mild a term—Ed fuzed the door with the wall.

Mei made a face at the machines and tubes and muttered about them being “barbaric” before she yanked the blankets to one side. Placing a hand on Roy’s stomach, she took a deep breath and settled in to focus.

Yu glanced over at Ed and put a hand on his arm. He hunched his shoulders. This was something he still not familiar with. In fact, Yu realized, he had never seen medical alkestry in action. He was putting the life of his lover in the hands of someone he did not trust, using a practice he did not understand.

“Your healers are lacking,” Mei remarked. “No regard for the body’s natural flow of qi at _all_.”

Ed scoffed but—uncharacteristically—held his tongue.

Mei was already sinking knives into the mattress on either side of Roy. Yu had a passing thought that if the hospital didn’t hate them already they were certainly going to now. But that thought was quickly dismissed as energy arched up, enclosing Roy in a cage of light. A second later—Yu was left blinking the dazzle from her eyes, peering through the relatively dim hospital lighting. She hardly dared breathe.

“I’ve stopped the bleeding,” Mei said. “I had to work around those—those _stitches_ , but I realigned his _qi_ and he should—”

Ed darted forward as soon as she started speaking, causing Mei to take a hasty step back to keep from being shoved. She scowled.

Yu put an arm around her to dispel the gathering storm. “‹Forgive him this once, Princess. Please,›” she said. “‹And thank you.›”

Ed was bent over the bed, cradling Roy’s face between his hands and speaking softly. And Roy—was stirring. Small shifts of his limbs, a tiny tilt of his head. Yu held her breath. “Hey. You in there?” Ed was saying. He stroked his hair, his cheek. “Time to wake up.”

Roy grimaced. His head jerked as he tried to shake himself back to consciousness. Then his single eye blinked open.

“Hey you!” Ed smiled, tears running down his cheeks and dripping from the end of his nose. “About time. Lazy-ass bastard.”

“Ed . . .?” Roy mumbled. “What . . . what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” the young man insisted. “Nothing’s wrong now. Everything gonna be fine.”

Roy’s hand bumped into his arm and slid back down to the bed. “You’re crying. . . .”

“Oh. Yeah.” Ed rubbed his cheeks. New tears immediately replaced the ones he wiped away. “Guess I am. Stupid, huh?” He caught up Roy’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Everything’s fine now.”

Yu could feel the tears on her own cheeks. She desperately wanted to embrace her son, to reassure herself that he was all right now. But the moment in front of her seemed so intimate and so complete, she wasn’t sure how she could break it. Or if she should.

The hospital staff had no such qualms. A pounding on what had once been the door made them all aware of the angry voices and the growing commotion outside the room.

Roy looked to the wall-that-had-been-a-door and back to Ed, to the wall, and then to Ed. The look on his face said _I have no idea what’s going on but I’m sure it’s your fault_.

Ed was grinning through his tears. “I should, um. Go deal with that. You just rest, all right? I’ll handle things.”

Roy made a dubious but resigned-sounding noise. Ed kissed him beneath his eye (“Ugh, you smell like hospital”) and straightened, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"He still needs rest to heal," Mei said. "Alkestry doesn't make miracles."

"You heard her, Bastard." Ed pressed Roy's hand between his own for a moment more. "I'll worry about everything else.”

Roy glanced to the fuzed door, then back to Ed, his smile both amused and trusting. He clearly had no qualms about leaving things in this man's hands, even if he didn't know what was happening.

Ed grinned again, and kissed Roy’s fingers before relinquishing his hand. “Lemme go see how badly I’ve pissed them off.”

* * *

Al sank down to the sand, his back against a clay wall. This side of the building was still in shade, shielding him from the growing heat of the day. For the time being.

He had just given away . . . everything. To someone he barely knew and had every reason not to trust. Ling had admitted he was seeking power and Al had all but handed him the secret to the Philosopher’s Stone.

He and his brother had never discussed it, but they had a tacit understanding that this knowledge was too dangerous to be shared. Had Al just doomed another country to the same path Dante had taken theirs down for centuries? His instincts told him Ling was genuine in his intentions, but good intentions only meant so much.

Well. They’d stopped it once. If it came to that, Al was prepared to do whatever was necessary to stop it again.

He could hear the men approaching, sounding nervous. Ling must have spooked them; Al regretted not being able to see that show. He grinned to himself as he put his hands together and pressed them to the ground.

The wind kicked up immediately. It was such a simple transmutation he often wondered why more alchemists didn’t use it—just change the relative temperatures in two areas, and physics took care of the rest.

The hard part was keeping it under control. He wanted enough of a wind storm to cut them off and maybe bury their trucks, but not enough to compromise the city. He clapped again and brought his hands down to contain the gusts.

“—The hell?”

“Shit!”

Al edged back to keep out of sight, pulling his shirt over his nose and squinting against the sand flying in his face.

“This whole area is cursed, I knew we shouldn’t have—”

“Shut up with your superstitious nonsense. We just—we just have to keep our heads down and wait. It’ll blow itself out.”

“I’m telling you it’s cursed. That Ishvalan cursed this city—”

Al clapped and sent a gust of wind straight at them.

“Handy trick.”

He had been so focused that Ling’s voice made him jump. Not that that was hard right now.

“I have alerted your large friend and some of the town elders,” Ling said as he shielded his face with his sleeve. “They know where to look.”

Al nodded, peering through the sands at his handiwork. The trucks wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.

Now came the tricky part. Once the wind got going, it wanted to keep going. He clapped and put his hands to the ground to even out the temperature. Get the air to stop rising and the wind will stop rushing in behind it. At least that was the idea. He clapped again to make another adjustment and counteract some of the inertia.

The windstorm finally sputtered to a halt.

“Cursed,” one of their quarry whispered into the sudden stillness. “It’s _cursed_ I tell you.”

One of the other men hissed at him to shut up.

“What brings you to our fair city so early in the day?” Armstrong’s voice was cheerful enough, but Al could hear the edge of steel beneath it. He smiled at the ripple of panic that went through the men. “You should have called ahead! We would have sent a guide to escort you. Steered you away from the, hm, less picturesque areas.”

Al crept around the far side of the building and peeked at the show. People from the town were walking in from all sides, surrounding the strangers. no one was being threatening, not yet, but the men from the train looked like cornered animals.

Ling leaned back and braced one foot against the wall. “A clever man could talk his way out of this,” he mused. “But these are not clever men.”

Al sighed. “They’re smart enough to clam up. I have a feeling we still won’t know who’s behind this.”

“But I get the sense that whoever it is has been rushed. A rushed person makes mistakes.”

Al eyed the Xingian prince. “You got what you wanted—more or less. Why are you still here?”

He shrugged. “I have nothing else to do at the moment.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair and shaking sand loose. “To meet honesty with honesty—I am not at all sure what I am to do with these scraps of knowledge you have given me. It would be enough to gain favor with my emperor-father—perhaps for my entire clan. But it may be . . . too much.”

Al rubbed his face. “Our teacher tried to impress on us that death is a part of the cycle of the world—and that interrupting that cycle creates imbalance. Throws everything off. We thought we understood—but we also thought we were clever enough to get around it.”

“You weren’t,” Ling surmised.

“No one is. It can’t be done. If you try . . . well, the results you get aren’t ones you’re going to like. If your father tries to extend his life . . . a lot of people are going to suffer. Including him. He won’t be able to escape it forever.”

The Liorian citizens were confronting the men with items that they had found—items they insisted had not been there when they’d dug their city out of the sand four years ago. Armstrong was doing his best to keep the peace but the situation looked delicate.

“Why is your general friend so hated?” Ling asked. “Someone is going to a lot of trouble just to make him look bad.”

“He was trying to change things.” Al shrugged. “Four years ago he even succeeded. Some of the men who were in power at the time . . . don’t like that.”

“Don’t like that he killed the last ruler?”

Al jumped.

“Or at least that’s the rumor.” Ling continued to watch the men from the train, a small, sly smile on his face. “According to those three.”

“Is—is it?” Al cringed at how transparent he sounded. He was far too short of sleep for this.

“I’m very impressed. I would love to discuss it with him. Knowing how to kill someone that high up and get away with it would be very useful to me.”

Al grimaced. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

He shrugged, his standard shit-eating grin not giving away anything. “So where can we find some breakfast?”

* * *

Yu wasn’t sure what she felt. Relieved, of course, and grateful. But also betrayed. Maybe it was irrational—Mei had helped, in the end—but seeing her son’s life used as a bargaining chip had left her queasy.

All she wanted to do was sleep. But her mind kept going over and over the last few hours, like a record with a faulty groove.

Mei perched on the edge of an easy chair in Roy’s—Roy and Ed’s—living room. She looked so uneasy, Yu wondered what was going through her mind. They were waiting for Ed to get off the phone so they could talk—or more likely, so Ed could give the Princess a piece of his mind. The young man had been profoundly grateful, but his anger at being played was clear.

Yu sympathized.

“Then stick a note on her door or something,” he was saying to whatever unlucky soul was on the other side of the phone. “Oh for fuck’s—I _don’t know_ , think of something! Just make sure she gets the note. Look, if she goes and steals a car it’s on _your_ head, I fucking tried!” Ed slammed the phone down and leaned against the small table for a moment.

When he turned around he looked, not calm exactly, but restrained. But any hope Yu might have had for peace was shattered as he unceremoniously rapped Mei on the head.

“Wh— _hey_!”

He rapped his knuckles against her skull again. “You fucking deserve it. Playing politics with people’s lives—” He swatted her once more and then stalked off.

“‹You should be grateful,›” Yu muttered. “‹He could have used the metal hand.›”

Mei grimaced, rubbing the top of her head.

“All this fuss about living forever,” Ed ranted, pacing the room. “It’s not like dying’s any big deal—”

“Edward, it’s really not that simple—”

“Don’t talk like you know these things!” Mei cut in.

“I _did_ die and I’m _telling_ you it’s no big deal,” Ed snapped. “We only care because we’re selfish. Human beings don’t like giving anything up.” He waved a hand in a vague gesture. “But for one who dies, it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

He continued on the circuit of the room as if he hadn’t just blithely contradicted one of the fundamental laws of the world. “Nothing—nothing matters any more when you’re dead. _You_ don’t matter. None of us do.”

Yu could only stare. Ed hadn’t seemed the type to use hyperbole and was far too honest for outright falsehoods, but he couldn’t have meant that—he couldn’t.

Mei had jumped up during the speech and dashed to the phone table, scribbling something on a piece of scratch paper. Now she slammed the pen down and snapped the paper in front of his face. “If you know so much—tell me what _this_ is!”

Ed went chalk white and jerked back. His heel caught the edge of a chair and he stumbled, hitting the floor hard.

“Ed!” Yu reached for him but he flinched when she touched his arm. “Mei, what _is_ that?”

Mei stood with the paper crumpled to her chest, looking just as shocked as Yu felt. “The—the _huang-ting_ —I think. I—I found it in some old journals—”

Edward made an odd choking sound. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes with a shudder. “Shit. I haven’t gotten _nearly_ enough sleep for this. Lemme guess: those journals talked about coming back from the dead, or the land of the dead, or gaining knowledge of life and death or— _something_ about life and death, right? You found them ’cause you were looking for immortality?”

“I . . . yes.” Mei’s hands tightened on the paper. “What . . . _is_ it?”

“The Gate of Knowledge,” he replied. “The Door of Truth. Gateway between worlds, between life and death—mostly we just call it the Gate.”

“This is . . . known here?”

“Nah.” Ed scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Just to idiots like me. Idiots who thought the rules didn’t apply.” He waved a hand at the paper. “Nice rendering, by the way. You must have studied that journal pretty closely.”

Mei tentatively straightened out the paper and stared down at it.

For a moment, no one said anything. Yu was at a loss, unable to make sense out of any of it.

Ed let his arms rest on his knees. “You’re right in thinking that _that_ deals with life and death. But it won’t give you what you want. You can’t cheat it.”

Yu stared at the young man, then at the drawing Mei held. Something wasn’t adding up, and if she wasn’t so exhausted she was sure she’d be able to figure out what.

“I don’t want to cheat it,” Mei was muttering. “Not really. I just—I just need—”

“You need it to look good,” Ed finished for her. He climbed to his feet and flicked a hand toward the drawing. “Well, unless you’re ready to lose a chunk of your body, _that_ is more trouble than it’s worth. And no, I _won’t_ tell you how to find it. You _don’t_ want to meet it early.”

It finally clicked. “Ed—you _said you died_!”

“O-oh, that,” he said through a yawn. “Right. I hadn’t gone through yet. My soul had left my body and I was standing at the Gate, but it hadn’t opened yet. Then Al healed me. So I guess I was—sort of dead. But not all the way dead? My body was dead.” He staggered over to the couch and dropped down, rubbing his face. “I guess I was mostly dead. Am I making any sense? I haven’t had enough sleep for this.”

Yu pressed a hand to her eyes. None of them had had enough sleep.

“My body had died,” Ed continued. “Got run through the heart. And I stood there—my soul—waiting for that damn thing to open, I realized—it didn’t matter. _I_ didn’t matter. Whether I lived or died—the world would go on. And dying—it was no big deal. It’s just going through the Gate. But when I was meant to. I was sad because of the things I hadn’t managed to do—promises I had broken—but I didn’t matter any more. I never had. And that was—sort of—comforting.”

Ed shook his head and waved a hand, cutting himself off in mid-ramble. “And then Al healed me with the Stone, and here we are. Yeah, we had it— _we_ hadn’t made it, and we didn’t want it, but we were stuck with it. And then—save one lousy life and it’s all used up. So much for unlimited energy, huh?”

Yu sank down into one of the arm chairs. It all seemed surreal. “This . . . this ‘Gate’ . . . this is what you saw when you—died? No wonder it frightened you.”

Ed paused, an odd look on his face. “Actually . . . that was the one time I _wasn’t_ terrified of that thing. It was . . . I was standing right in front of it, and it was—just—fuck.”

He started to laugh. As he covered his face with his hands and fell back against the cushions, Yu couldn’t help but wonder if the past few days hadn’t been too much and he’d lost his grip on sanity entirely.

“I’ve been thinking about that thing all wrong! It’s—fuck. The Gate’s only terrifying if you’re not meant to be there. Otherwise. . . .” He dropped his hands. “It . . . in the normal course of things, it just . . . is.” In a quiet voice, he repeated, “It just _is_.”

Mei was keeping her thoughts to herself, her face carefully inscrutable as she watched the other alchemist.

“You’ve figured it out, haven’t you,” Ed asked her with a weary half-smile. “You know what the Stone is.”

“It’s life,” Mei whispered. “People. Isn’t it.”

Yu gasped.

“Yup.” Ed dropped his hands. “And you wanna know the kicker? The real kick in the teeth? All those soldiers who died in Liore—on top of I don’t know how many from Ishval—and we didn’t even have a complete Stone. Got used up in just a couple transmutations—the last one being me. Thousands of lives—for one. How’s _that_ for equivalence?”

Yu was sure that once she’d had time to process everything she would be properly horrified. Right now she just felt numb.

“I’m still not telling you the process. And I’m not telling you how it could be used to keep a person from dying. As far as I know it’s just me and Al who know it from beginning to end now. It’s gonna die with us. But what you’ve got already might look pretty damn impressive, wouldn’t it?”

Mei looked ill as she lowered herself down into a chair. “He would try. My father-emperor. He would take this knowledge and try—and he would take from the least of the clans first.”

Ed rubbed his eyes. “All the shit that happened here—Ishval, Liore, all of it—that was one woman who didn’t want to die. Who thought she could cheat the Gate. But you can’t cheat it. It caught up with her eventually. Just like it caught up with my dad. You can’t cheat it.”

Exhaustion won out before they could launch into what would no doubt have been a fascinating debate. Edward ended up sprawled out on the couch, the little grey-and-white cat curled up on his stomach. Soon after Mei was curled up in the armchair.

Yu slid the much-abused drawing out from under Mei’s hand and smoothed it out. To her eyes it didn’t look like much; a double door with an eye symbol, flanked by scribbles that suggested human figures. A bit macabre, maybe, but hardly intimidating in and of itself.

She folded the paper and tucked it next to Mei.

Yu searched the hall closet and found a couple of blankets. One she tucked around Mei, and then she turned to the couch, eyeing the cat. “I don’t suppose you would be so kind as to move.”

Magpie stretched out his paws and settled his nose between them.

“Fine.” She shook the blanket out and drew it over Ed, cat and all. Magpie _mrrped_ in protest. “We’re all making due here, cat.”

Now there was no one left to take care of. Nothing more for her to do. Yu stood there in the living room for a moment, looking at the two sleeping alchemists. Her princess, heir to the clan her family had served for generations. And also, she had liked to think, a friend; before today, she had never questioned that.

And the young man who loved her son. Her son-in-law, she supposed. She wondered if that would ever stop sounding strange.

Maybe once she had more sleep the world would start making sense again.

Long gone were the days when she could crash in the living room and not regret it in the morning. She seemed to remember a small spare room off the living room. She opened the door and found it to be small, but homey enough, with a neatly made bed and a wardrobe. It would be more than adequate. After last night it seemed palatial.

Yu shut the door and leaned back against it, staring up at the ceiling as the tears started to fall.


End file.
